


Sunflower Bribes

by mechanistmacha (SaturnJay), saccharinespice, SaturnJay



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blackmail, Bondage and Discipline, Explicit Sexual Content, Happy Ending, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Racism, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:35:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 39,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23755468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaturnJay/pseuds/mechanistmacha, https://archiveofourown.org/users/saccharinespice/pseuds/saccharinespice, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaturnJay/pseuds/SaturnJay
Summary: Claude's not a bad person, and Dimitri seems like a nice guy. But he needs the money. Only when his scheme backfires in the worst way does he realize how badly he's fallen for his mark.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Very minor and implied Dimitri/Sylvain/Felix
Comments: 49
Kudos: 102





	1. All the King's Men

**Author's Note:**

> Written with my partner, so apologies if there's some POV stuff I forgot to fix in editing.
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: Stripping and sex and a very annoying Ferdinand von Aegir

"No, no, no, look... It's just one specific boy I want to see. It's his debut! Come on, Dima, you know I can't miss this!"

Sylvain had promised him a night in. Something relaxing, with wine and friends. Nothing crazy like Sylvain preferred. And now this.

"I promise, we'll come right back here. Old movies. Wine. I even got popcorn. But please... Just an hour or two, tops." Sylvain was in that pleading pose, how he always got his way with people, especially people who thought he was beautiful.

"You know it won't just be an hour," Felix called warningly from the kitchen.

"Look, look, I'll set an alarm!" Sylvain begged, pulling out his phone. "As soon as he's off the stage, boom, we're gone. I promise, Dima. I _ promise." _

But that was the thing with Sylvain. Always promising, not quite always delivering. And what could Dimitri do? He was a sucker for his friends... Especially his attractive male friends, who he was trying not to have feelings for.

Dimitri--Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, the only surviving son of the Blaiddyd foundation, in his impeccably tailored suit, a bottle of fine wine that was older than the both of them, stood in Sylvain Gaultier's well-appointed house and felt so helpless when it came to Sylvain.

"Felix," he said, his voice overtired for his age, "Felix, please. Get me out of this." But he knew, even with Felix's assistance, there was no talking Sylvain out of something, especially out of visiting his "investment."

Felix popped his head out of the kitchen. "You could just tell him no, boar." A semi-cruel, semi-fond nickname he'd given him since they were kids and Dimitri had the temper of a wild pig when he came across some horrible injustice.

Sylvain was pouting. And he was so,  _ so _ pretty when he did so. "Come on... You might enjoy it!"

Dimitri had never been to the dungeon. He couldn't. If anyone knew... But he did find himself a little curious. The feelings in him that crept up more and more lately (certainly gay feelings that he could no longer logically deny) tugged at him to just try. Just once. Just once couldn't hurt.

Finally, Dimitri relented, passing Felix the fine wine, "Don't open this until we return," he told him with a light kiss on the cheek, as he always gave his friends. A leftover symbol of politeness from when they were kids. Then, his arm was stolen by Sylvain, and they were out onto the Fhirdiad streets, lit up at night, piling into a towncar.

"... Half an hour," he said uneasily, "And then I'll wait in the car."

Sylvain nodded. "Okay, I promise I'll follow right after. I promise. Thanks, Dima! You're a treat." He kissed his cheek too, just where the straps of his eyepatch were.

Dimitri loved them both. And he was so, so jealous of them. Sylvain and Felix, they'd been together for so long and they were the only gay friends Dimitri had (that he knew of). They convinced him it was normal, nothing to be ashamed of, and he’d mostly gotten rid of the societal shame. Mostly. But Dimitri could never indulge those feelings. If it came out that Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd was gay.... He'd lose everything his parents left for him. It wasn’t the money he cared about, but he loved the Blaiddyd Foundation and all the charity they accomplished. Hospitals. Orphanages. His work was as important to him as his life. No, even more so.

Sylvain's investment was a gay dungeon, All the King's Men, (and right beside it, a lesbian dungeon that was even more popular called All the King's Horses) and Sylvain was proud of them both, even if he was only allowed in one.

The car pulled up discreetly to the back because Sylvain knew Dimitri couldn't be seen. "It's so dark in there, no one will recognize you," he promised.

"Even with…?" His eye patch was distinct. The same freak accident that had killed his family had taken his eye; it made him instantly recognizable in Fhirdiad society. True, both Felix and Sylvain were also of high society, but they were both the family disappointments, which made the upper crust nervous that sweet, good-natured Dimitri had been hanging out with them.

They'd even deployed Lorenz Gloucester in an attempt to groom him, and Ferdinand von Aegir as potential friends... however, after the latter had run away with one Hubert von Vestra, that was moot. In fact, after the prime minister of Adrestia's son eloped with another man, it had only made Dimitri more cagey about his sexuality. Ferdinand had been all but disowned; though the few social media posts from the cheery redhead told Dimitri he was happy. Perhaps... It wasn't unheard of for him...

No. The Foundation was more important. Tonight, he was only present to indulge his dear friend and support his business endeavors. After all, Sylvain’s father sat on the Blaiddyd Foundation's board. It would be rude. That's what he was sticking to, anyway.

Yet still, as he approached the heavy velvet curtains and worked his way past the stunning bouncer (who Dimitri noted was taller than him, a feat to be sure), he found himself mesmerized. All these men... living their truth. A pang of jealousy settled into his heart.

"Hey, Dedue!" Sylvain cried, reaching up to clap the enormous man on the shoulder. "How's it been?"

"Master Gautier," was the quiet, calm reply. He seemed the type.

"Come on, are you ever going to call me Sylvain?"

The man's little smile said plainly 'no.'

And fuck, he was so handsome. Dimitri was really in trouble tonight.

When the curtain parted, Dimitri's breath just stopped short. Everywhere, everywhere, half naked men, gorgeous men, entertaining customers... Taunting him.

"Oh hey, is that Hubert?"

Dimitri froze, stuck to the spot, his eye enormous at the sight. Sure enough, there was Hubert, the cool, dark-haired sentinel who always reminded Dimitri a bit of a vampire. Before he could say hello, there was a bit of a squeal.

"Oh, _ Sylvain, _ you sly fox, hello!" Obviously Hubert wouldn't go far without his husband, Ferdinand, whose body was mostly glitter at this point, who hurried to meet Sylvain, kiss his cheeks. His sunset red curls were flying, like a happy orange peacock. "So lovely! Yes, I heard about your new debut and I just had to come..."

Dimitri's eye scanned the room with as much routine as a computer. This was a high-end establishment, time there cost thousands of dollars, and anyone who was anyone of that persuasion was there. Was that... Lorenz? He wished he could've shown Cornelia; that would've made her miserable. He stationed himself along the back wall, somehow feeling safer around the man they called Dedue. Mostly because it looked like he could pound anyone flat who stepped out of line.

Hubert clearly did not want to be here. This wasn't his scene at all, although several customers seemed to think he was part of the scenery. He glared them off. "Lord Blaiddyd," he said with a bit of a bow. He was just... Like that. But he was careful not to say his name loudly. "I see you're sticking to the shadows tonight. Honestly, I am surprised to see you here."

Sylvain was gushing with Ferdinand about the debut. "He's Almyran! I know, right? It's been decidedly too white in here. But Dedue will probably have to chase off the racists. Have you seen him yet? Oh good, I didn't miss it..."

"No, not at all. I think his turn is in a little. Oh, do get a drink with us, I see you're shepherding the poor Lord Blaiddyd tonight." Ferdinand looked around Sylvain's shoulder pityingly at Dimitri, who was trying to affix himself to the wall.

Sylvain sighed. "Yeah... Poor guy. But don't say his name too loud. Not a ton of people recognize him. They think he's like... Masquerading as a pirate or something. Seriously though, you look great. Let me know if you and Hubert ever need a third," he winked, mostly teasing.

"Lord Vestra,” Dimitri tried to tune Ferdinand and Sylvain out. “Congratulations, I do not know if I had the opportunity to tell you." He gestured vaguely toward Ferdinand, who was newly wedded to Hubert, and who had just turned to show Sylvain all the glitter that had ended up on his ass to great laughter and shrieking. Dimitri blushed and stared at the floor. Ferdinand was always a bit much.

Hubert just nodded once. "I thank you. Not a day goes by that I do not regret it." But Dimitri knew that was not true at all. "I hope you will find some time to enjoy yourself tonight. I know you do not often get out for... Obvious reasons." He always sounded so sinister, but Dimitri knew he meant well.

The lights suddenly dimmed, and people shrieked.

Ferdinand found a seat--namely, Hubert's lap, gave a friendly wave to Dimitri as the lights rose on the small, circular stage in the center of the curtained room.

But Sylvain was a good friend. He didn't leave Dimitri's side at the wall, even though he was straining to see more closely as the music started. Unexpectedly, Dedue leaned forward. "Master Sylvain, I will take care of him," he said quietly.

Sylvain bit his lip, looking towards the stage. "Dimitri? Do you mind?"

Dimitri felt a great sense of protection from the man. He seemed the sort to take this seriously, to be discreet. "Not at all, my friend. Go on."

Sylvain clasped Dimitri's hands, suddenly very serious. "Dima, you are the most perfect, loyal, beautiful, wonderful friend a guy could ask for. Also, please don't tell Felix how much money I'm going to spend." And he ran off to join Ferdinand and Hubert.

Dedue smiled just a little bit. "Master Gautier is certainly something."

Dimitri made a note to reimburse Felix for Sylvain’s indiscretions. "He certainly is something, indeed. I thank you--I will do my best to keep from troubling you." He sat, nice and behaved, against the back wall, peering over the top of the cheering crowd, already waving wads of cash.

Dedue folded his arms. "You are precious to Master Gautier. He speaks much of you while he is here. So I feel as if I already know you. I am certain you will not trouble me."

Goddess, even the servers, walking around with drinks, were beautiful, topless, walking around. Dimitri felt warm whenever they passed him. He was too distracted to do anything but nod in return.

And then the stage was no longer empty.

In a way, the man was more dressed than most of the other employees, draped in black and golden silks like a dancer of old. His skin was copper, shining under the lights, and his hair a mess of dark curls that begged to be touched. His eyes were almost bottomless, a depth of green that settled over the crowd like a stirring wind through verdant treetops. With every step, his hips swayed like the gentle rocking of a willow canopy.

And when he met Dimitri's eyes, Lord Blaiddyd was paralyzed.

For Dimitri, the rest of the world fell away. How could it not? He stared into those deep green eyes, lost utterly. His mouth hung open, watching each flash of the golden coins that hemmed the skirt, each ripple of fabric and muscle.

He was  _ transcendent. _

This new man was more than merely a hit. They rushed the stage. They shrieked and howled and threw cash by the fistful. Dimitri barely heard them, certainly didn't see them. All that existed was the man who certainly kept throwing looks Dimitri's way, despite his other more willing customers.

He was gone too quickly. His time was up and when he left the stage, he took all of Dimitri's sanity with him. They had to sweep the money up with brooms. Before Sylvain could turn, Dimitri was at his side, a deathgrip on his arm.

"I need to meet him," he said, voice low and husky.

Sylvain's eyes lit up. "Oh. My. God. My little Dima has his first crush...." He wiped away a fake tear. "He really was something, huh? Anything for my best friend. Wait here, okay?"

As he slipped off, Dimitri suddenly felt cold. This was dangerous. This was so, so dangerous. What if he was recognized? No, no, he didn't make enough public appearances, it was fine, right? Right?

When Sylvain returned alone, he thought maybe it was for the best, but Sylvain was grinning too widely.

"So, I pulled some strings for you, my little Dima. I got you an hour with him in one of the rooms. My treat, it's on me."

"I--an hour? To do what?" Dimitri knew, in theory, what happened here. What the rooms were for. What the waivers signed and IDs taken were about. But what was he supposed to do in there?! He checked his breath, frantically searched his pockets. "I don't have a gift--or--flowers, or... a card?" What did you get for a dancer, anyway?

Sylvain gently took his hands. "Dima, baby, calm down. Listen. You don't have to do anything you don't want to. You can just talk, okay? He'll follow your lead." He started tugging his hands, pulling him towards the private rooms. They were all soundproof, but he could imagine what was happening in there. He stopped in front of a door. A door marked with the silhouette of a knight on a horse and the number 7.

"Go in when you're ready, okay? I'll wait for you out back."

"Okay... I. Ah. Thank you, Sylvain."

A chaste little kiss to the back of his hand. Old-fashioned, but utterly sincere. The kind of man no one would think existed anymore. He shored up his courage and then knocked on the door, unsure if he could be heard.

"Come in." The voice was muffled but there was a playful, teasing lilt to it.

"I told him your name was Matthew," Sylvain hissed and then off he went with a wink.

Inside, everything was plush and pretty. The cushioned booth was crimson, and the walls were draped with velvet. And sitting there, in all of his glory, was Claude.

Claude was a man wholly comfortable with himself. He was confident in his appearance, his wit, and his charm, all of which he had plenty. He was as beautiful as he was clever, and he was here on a mission.

He'd noticed him in the crowd immediately. No one else might have guessed, but he knew. He stripped and offered his body as a side job; he used to do it freelance but he got hurt too often. He needed protection from the creeps, which All the King's Men happily provided in abundance.

No, his day job was journalism, and he knew there was the great potential for a story, seeing Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd in a gay dungeon.

Of course, he had no desire to expose the guy. He worked there, so it would be the height of hypocrisy. But he needed money, and he needed it fast. And he was not above blackmailing the rich. Besides, a charity as big and as clean as the Blaiddyd Foundation? Something had to be rotten. So he didn’t feel the slightest bit guilty.

"Hey," he purred, crossing his beautiful thighs on the booth, knowing the effect he had on men. "Matthew, right?"

"W-Yes," Dimitri replied, wishing he had a hat to hold, or flowers to offer. The door closed heavily behind him. Here Claude had taken some of the layers of the costume off, which made Dimitri's throat incredibly dry. He hovered about, a hand on his chest, as he gestured down to the bench, "Ah, may I?"

As if he couldn't sit in the booth he paid for. This one was going to be easy. Claude had seen this act before. The sweet gentlemanly act. Sure. Right. As if a rich boy like Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd was actually not a snob. Please. He wasn't falling for it. He leaned forward, letting the layers of his incredibly short top dip, showing his absolutely beautiful chest. "Of course," he chuckled, gesturing beside him.

As soon as Dimitri worked up the courage to sit, Claude came closer. "Oh... A handsome one. Lucky me." He winked. "Call me Claude."

Dimitri’s pale cheeks flashed red as he bowed his head, hands working together bashfully. “Mr. Claude. Truly an exemplary performance. I wish that I had flowers to congratulate you with.” As if he were a principal dancer in the ballet.

Claude laughed and it was bright and alluring. "Mister Claude? Oh goddess, just Claude, please. As for the flowers, you are rather old fashioned, aren't you? I don't mind that. It's kind of... Sweet."

He wasn't shy. He was a stripper and a sex worker after all. He shifted  _ all  _ the way over to him so their legs were pressed against each other and he leaned over him so close, close enough that Dimitri could feel his breath, smell his cologne, warm and cinnamon.

"I heard you were quite taken with me," he purred and he walked his dark fingers up Dimitri's chest. "I heard you were just dying for this time alone. I have to say, I’m flattered. It’s only my first night after all. I thought I’d have to work for weeks to get a guy like you to notice me. Anything in particular I can do for you?"

"I--I only... asked to meet you, I am sure you have--" He swallowed loudly. "Many  _ much _ more interesting people to meet than I. F-Ferdinand von Aegir and his husband are here. I'm--just. Well, a sad person, I'm told."

He was sweating, why was he sweating so much? It wasn't terribly hot. Claude was just so... so close, so--so  _ beautiful, _ his dark curls, that enchanting little braid... He found himself reaching out to touch it with his fingertips.

Claude blinked in surprise. Ah, this one was smart. Playing the long game, ensuring Claude's loyalties. Made sense, given his family name. He wouldn't have survived long otherwise.

"Oh." He looked a little disappointed on purpose, pulling away. "Well, if you just want to talk, I suppose I don't mind." He watched carefully as Dimitri touched his braid. "Though I admit, I was hoping for a little more... A man like you, who's both kind and handsome... Well, let's just say I’m not used to customers like you."

"Has someone been cruel to you?" Dimitri said, suddenly defensive. "I will have Sylvain throw him out at once. He can and  _ will _ press charges." He had such an old way of talking, it was endearing, his eyes lit with the passion of justice.

Claude smiled. He'd heard that line before. Although, not usually so formally. "No, not here. My old place, don't worry." He watched him, but he didn't move his leg away. How to seduce him... "So we have an hour. What do you want to talk about? Or do you want a private dance?"

"I would love to watch you dance," Dimitri said hopefully, assuming that this would be like a private performance, not unlike what he had been shown in the main stage. He set his feet back, eager, his eye bright. ready to watch artistry at work.

Claude knew he could seduce anyone by dance. He'd learned from Almyran women, who didn't hold back, who seduced with everything, their eyes, their hands, their hips, their thighs. The people of Fodlan, and  _ especially  _ of Faerghus, were so uptight that a little wiggle in their direction had them squirming.

He left the room only for a moment to pick some music, but when he returned, he'd placed a little veil over his mouth to add some mystery. He knew exactly what these kind of men wanted. No one in Almyra wore veils any more, but Faerghus men preferred the… exotic. Claude would feed their racism and then empty their pockets. A fair exchange, he thought slyly.

He danced and it was not the same as being on the stage. He climbed onto the table and rolled his hips against the air as if he were being fucked. He removed the silks, one by one, until he was in nothing but a veil and a sheer skirt, the black of very,  _ very _ tiny shorts beneath them.

Dimitri had his hands up, ready to clap to show his appreciation, but froze in place, still as stone, his eye wide and his face very, very pink. It didn't take someone observant to realize he had pitched quite a tent, and he hadn't even seemed to notice himself.

Claude was pleased with himself. Ha. He still held all the cards. Time to play them.

He ended up, somehow, on his knees in front of Dimitri, then slowly crawled his way up his body until there was a scant inch between them, Claude straddling his hips tightly, their lips separated only by the thinnest air and the thinnest veil. He had the man right where he wanted him.  _ Matthew  _ indeed.

"Are you sure you don't want at least one kiss?" he whispered, his lashes long and dark.

"P-perhaps one." To be polite. It would be rude to refuse something so kindly offered. He'd never been kissed before. Not really. He didn't quite count kissing Felix in a closet at church camp.

Claude chuckled with all the mischief of a cat about to break a vase. "I should warn you that if you kiss me, you'll never go back. You'll never be free of me when you dream." He took off the veil, holding himself against the booth with one hand, possessively boxing Dimitri in. He wore a sheen of golden gloss, his lips parted and waiting for Dimitri. He couldn't kiss first. It was against policy.

Dimitri lifted his face shyly, lips enveloping his, though they did not push past those gilded doors to his mouth. He didn’t know how to kiss. The only reason he had the courage to do this now was because he felt it would be rude not to. He would allow Claude to lead the way. With his hand, he found Claude's, holding it to his heart. So stupidly, endearingly romantic.

Claude was surprised about the hand holding, but he let it happen, still assuming it to be an act.  _ He's good, _ he thought, warning himself to be careful.

But he still pressed back, knowing it was Dimitri's first real kiss (it was sort of obvious). He didn't play shy. He was mysterious and slow, but only to tease. He kissed fully, pressing his tongue inside, and that cinnamon smell became a cinnamon taste. It was, as Claude had warned, intoxicating.

He touched Dimitri's chest as he kissed, testing the waters. They hadn't even spent ten of his minutes yet, and Claude had no desire to talk. He wanted to  _ ride  _ him. He carefully undid one button from Dimitri's suit. Then another, distracting him by deepening the kiss.

Dimitri couldn't think very much past that. His body was taking over his mind, and he felt himself lean back, eye falling shut as he sank back into the thick cushion of the booth. His hands climbed up to hold Claude’s face, his neck, just as he had seen in movies.

Claude had to just wish that this was a man he could actually date. He was handsome, and mysterious with that eyepatch. He wondered if he was blind in that eye.

But no, this was just someone to exploit. And Claude was, for better or worse, very good at it. He gave a little moan, just a taste of his voice, to get the blood pumping and reached down slowly, daringly pressing a hand over the man's crotch, right over his suit.

_ Goddess above, _ he was huge... Claude's moan became real as he imagined riding him. This could be fun after all. Thank goodness the son of Lambert Blaiddyd was the gifted sort.

Dimitri gasped, drawing away with red cheeks, his lips damp and swollen. He fumbled for words to deny how he felt, but... It was too late for that. His eye drew helplessly up to Claude, pleading for what he needed, but didn't know how to articulate.

For a moment, Claude blinked. Was he really...? No, it couldn't be. No way a spoiled rich brat like this was really a virgin. It simply wasn't possible.

He slowly smirked, rubbing a bit. "You seemed so excited to meet me... Now I see it's true," he purred. "What a big boy, too."

"Forgive me, I haven't--I do not--have, have not," Dimitri stammered. Apparently Claude's instincts were utterly correct.

Claude was dumbfounded. How could this be? Rich boys like him were always only after one thing. Unless he'd been hiding that he was gay even from himself. Hm. Maybe he wouldn't have to do as much as he thought. Still.

"I'm happy to take care of you." He batted dark eyelashes at him. "Just say the word."

Dimitri stumbled over his thoughts. Sylvain had paid Claude for his time. It would be rude to not partake, right? He swallowed the lump of anxiety in his throat and with a deceptively soft mouth spoke a single word. "Please."

He didn't know what he was asking, he just wanted this beautiful man with his green eyes to smile and touch him, look on him with that fond gaze, no matter how manufactured.

Claude knew he had two other clients waiting after him (only two because he'd be too exhausted to take more), so he'd take his time. He knew this was the part where a man's true colors came out. He wondered if he'd pull his hair or throw him down. Claude had been through worse.

Still, it was hard to ignore that sweet look. Claude felt a twinge of pain, of wishing someone would look at him that way and mean it. But no. He couldn't get sentimental now.

He leaned forward, unzipping Dimitri's pants by his teeth. Seduction was a game to him, a game he was very good at. He watched him the whole time, even winked as he hooked his fingers under the waistband and pulled away his pants, just to the knees.

Dimitri's cock almost flipped upward, he was so hard and wanting. And bigger than Claude thought.

"Mmm..." he hummed, licking his lips slowly for display. "Delicious."

Dimitri’s jaw was already wobbling as he fought moaning, tried to look somewhat professional. It was a total waste, as his knees spread, legs opening for the stranger like a door. "I-is it? I've... been told I'm fit."

That was one word for it, anyhow.

Claude laughed; he couldn't help it.  _ Fit?  _ What an odd choice of words. "Relax," he whispered, kissing the man's thigh. "I'm here for you right now, Matthew." He could see Dimitri twitch uneasily, as if forgetting who Matthew was. Of course, Claude knew he wasn't Matthew at all.

He nuzzled a bit against his stomach before opening up his mouth and flicking his skillful tongue over the tip of his cock.

This had never happened to Dimitri before. Never. No one had ever done this, ever touched him this way, seen him erect. Sure, he'd been naked in changing rooms or with his friends, but never in such a way. And the feeling? Indescribable.

Both of his hands lashed out and gripped the side of the booth seats to try and keep control himself, and tore the very upholstery. He was very strong, it turned out, but he was careful not to touch Claude, not to interrupt him in his work. All the while, his eye was fixed on him though, wide in wonder.

Claude's eyes shot to the torn booth. He'd have to be very careful with this one or he could get hurt. Fuck, but there was something hot about that. It was a damn shame he'd be blackmailing him.

He smiled up at his client before wrapping his plush lips around the head of his cock and teasing lower, softening the muscles of his cheeks and throat to accept his girth. He was clean, thank the Goddess. So many men did not take care of themselves.

Dimitri was certainly clean, but once his shirt was lifted, there were terrible, mangled scars on his belly, his chest. It was said that he and his family had been in a horrifying airplane crash; some burned alive, others died on impact, but Dimitri was the sole survivor.

Claude paused. He'd seen plenty of scars in his time, but not like these. He gently lowered the shirt a bit, so Dimitri didn't think he was staring. But another twinge of guilt, bigger this time, settled unpleasantly in his stomach.

_ Don't you dare get soft for this guy, _ he warned himself.  _ You need the money. _

Dimitri felt him pause. "I'm sorry. I know they are... grotesque, I understand if you don't want to..."

Claude looked up at him and pulled his lips back, already red and puffy with his own arousal. "You are  _ not _ grotesque," he said firmly, with much more feeling than he meant to. "And you are not your scars. Just relax, okay? I'm going to take care of you."

Dimitri tried to obey, leaning his head back against the velvet, his beautiful lashes fluttering. His belly rose and fell with his harsh breathing as he tried to calm, to relax, but his skin was marked with goosebumps and his fingers curled needfully.

Claude moved back, settling between his thighs. He hadn't intended to do much thinking about this man… other than how to seduce him so he kept coming back for more. But now he found himself wanting to ask him so many things. He wondered if Dimitri would have been the type to talk for the whole hour, even if he paid for more.

Not the time. He refused to get invested. He just bowed his head and sucked him.

Dimitri undulated beneath him, and reached to--cautiously, reverently, stroke Claude's dark curls, card them this way and that. Something dripped on the back of Claude's hand. He was biting his lip until it bled, trying so hard to be quiet, as if the sound-proofed room wasn't enough. This poor thing was repressed practically underground.

Claude internally panicked when he saw blood, remembering the last time he'd seen it. But when he looked up, he quickly stopped. "Hey, hey... what's wrong? Did I hurt you?" He didn't see how he could have, but if he was biting his lip like that....

"N-no!" Dimitri cried, and then quickly covered his mouth with one hand. "It... it feels amazing. Incredible." He was clearly reacting as well, growing ever harder, denser in Claude's grip.

Claude surged forward and kissed him out of nowhere, covering his lips, letting his tongue swipe over the cut, tasting the blood. No.  _ No. _ He didn't want to see it. He didn’t want to see blood. "It's okay..." he said gently. "Just calm down."

Dimitri quieted--only to suddenly grasp Claude's cheeks in his hand, kiss him in full as he rolled against him, unable to keep his hands away, losing himself for a moment, just a moment.

Claude hated that they had such chemistry. He fell into the kiss because he wanted to, he realized, and the thought made him sick. This wasn't good. This was  _ too  _ good. But he didn't pull away. He let the man touch him, his own hands braced on Dimitri's thighs.  _ Fuck. Stop kissing me... stop touching me. _ But he didn't really want him to stop. That was the problem.

Had Claude asked him to, Dimitri would have stopped immediately, mortified, But instead he did not, he picked Claude up under his thighs as if he were light as a feather, and brought him onto his lap, ignoring his painful erection for the bliss of kissing him instead.

Claude wrapped himself around his torso. Why did he always do this, he thought as his arms circled Dimitri's neck, his lips plush and moaning a bit, grinding his hips down to give the man some friction. Why did he always fall in love with the worst people? Despite all his mischief, his confidence, his grace, he was always picking up pieces of himself as people broke him apart. 

He knew this would be no different.

Dimitri’s hands were impossibly gentle, cradling the back of Claude’s head, bending down over him as he supported him through the surprisingly aggressive kissing. When he finally pulled away, it was with a gasp, his remaining eye hooded.

"Claude... You're stunning. I am sure you know."

Claude smiled and touched his cheek. "As are you... I hope you'll come see me again."

_ Fuck. _ This wasn't how it was supposed to go at all.

"My--name is Dimitri," he said. "...I don't know why Sylvain gave me a false name. My name is Dimitri." He wanted to hear Claude say it, hear his name on those beautiful lips. Their brows were practically touching, exchanging one another's breaths.

Claude reeled back a bit in shock.  _ Probably because he wanted to protect you, you beautiful idiot.  _ He hadn't expected his mark to give him information so willingly, but some guys were so full of themselves, they were too proud to pretend to be someone else. He just... couldn't imagine it with him though.

"Is that so? I understand the need for discretion sometimes," Claude smiled, and dragged his teeth a little bit along Dimitri's neck, adoring his muscled shoulders with reverent hands. "Dimitri, then."

Hilda always said that Claude could play anyone... including himself. That was certainly true with men. Because that name felt so right on his tongue.

Dimitri shuddered, gave a beautiful moan at the sound, tilting his head back. "Please. Do what you will... I will never forgive myself for the regret if I walk away now." He took a deep breath, trying to sound brave. "Will you help me?" That pitiful gaze. There was no way this boy wasn't absolutely who he said he was.

_ Will you help me? _

Fuck. _ Fuck. _ There was no help for it. Claude wasn't going to fuck this man. Since Sylvain requested it, he was sure he could smooth things over if he took an extra hour.

"I will," he said gently. And he lowered his hips to his lap, trapping Dimitri's cock right under his thigh and rubbing, slow and methodical, his arms wrapped about the man's shoulders like a scarf. He wanted to take this man home, he wanted to make him cry out his name, he wanted to claim him...

This was why he always got hurt. He fell for the wrong people every time. Other than the copious scars, he couldn't have been better. A handsome, well-endowed, polite man, sincere and sweet. Almost the kind you would take home to mom. What could go wrong here?

_ Rich people are all the same, _ he reminded himself.

Dimitri moaned into his kiss, whimpered down his throat, and his hand closed around that cute little braid, tugging it.

Claude was fooling himself, getting carried away, whining as his braid got pulled. So sweet, this Dimitri, he wouldn't have thought he could pull hair. But now even Claude was hard, straining against the absolutely tiny shorts. It was basically a strip of fabric at this point. He whimpered against Dimitri's mouth, "Touch me?"

A request it would be impossible to ignore.

Maybe he was eager. Maybe he was stronger than he looked. But the way Dimitri seized half of his ass, hefting him up closer, was not something someone reticent would do. His other hand roamed his back, and there was a shift, where it became obvious that Dimitri was holding all of Claude's weight, as if he were a doll.

Claude gasped in surprise. The man looked strong, but this was something else. Claude was shorter, but he was not a tiny person to just shift around. He looked down at him and suddenly, the look in that blue eye, so sincere, so sweet and tender, made him utterly lose control. He fumbled his grip, grateful he was held safely up, and clung to him tighter.

"L-let me just..."

He wriggled a bit, reaching down to pull at the lace ties of his bottoms. They came away with ease, and Claude's body was fully naked against Dimitri's mostly clothed one.

While he spoke, he bowed his head and kissed as much of Claude's throat as he could reach. He squeezed the soft flesh of Claude's thigh, thumb hooked to rub the tender skin at the crook of his hip. His kisses alternated between soft, to near-bites.

Claude was drunk from this attack. It wasn't fair. How dare Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd be rich, hot, hung,  _ and _ a gentleman? If there was any justice in the world, he'd be ugly as sin.

And this was how Claude knew he was going to break himself over this one. Again.

Good thing he was a professional. He'd already worked himself open since most clientele weren't inclined to be polite and do the work. So now he was grinding down hard, rubbing his ass over Dimitri's cock in slow, rhythmic motions. He shuddered, in love with the feeling of friction.

As for Dimitri... This was his first time.

Surprise, surprise for dear Dimitri, as he suddenly found himself surrounded in the tight heat of Claude's body. He gasped, eye snapping open, shoulders hunching.

He was fucking a man. He was fucking a man right  _ now. _ The panic threatened to swallow him whole, before he fought it down, determined. No. He was going to do this properly. Here, in this secret space... he would abandon his reserve.

With one powerful thrust, he nearly knocked Claude off of him, only to have gravity push him all the way back down.

Claude couldn't even close his mouth. He threw back his head as Dimitri slipped into him and moaned, feeling absolutely, wonderfully  _ filthy. _ There weren't men quite like this anymore, and Claude felt even his carefully prepared body stretch, a painful twinge to it. He squeezed his muscles around the intrusion and gave a shuddering gasp.

"Di-Dimi--" He couldn't finish even saying his name.

Dimitri’s fingers sank against his shoulders, and his maw opened, biting down on Claude's beautiful shoulder, enough to leave a ring of tiny, pinprick bruises. All the while he rolled his hips, the rhythm not losing any force, and just seeming to grow in power with each buck. If Dimitri wasn't holding him down, he'd be sending Claude up into the ceiling.

It had been a long time since Claude had been fucked so hard and he cried out, relishing it, enjoying being bitten and everything that came with it. He clung so hard his nails cut into Dimitri's scarred shoulders. He forced himself down to the hilt every thrust, quickly translating that pain into raw, rotten,  _ spoiled  _ bliss.

"H- _ harder!" _ he choked out.

Dimitri took his instructions by picking him up and pushing him against the wall, letting the wall to press against do half the work as he absolutely  _ pounded  _ him. It was clumsy, lacking rhythm, and more than once he accidentally pulled back so hard that he pulled out completely, but it was  _ feral _ and Claude loved every moment of it. It was not the kind of lover that Dimitri looked like, to be certain.

Claude had to hug the man, arms and legs, to keep himself from sliding down in absolute pleasure. He was wailing now, as it was impossible for Dimitri not to hit that sweet spot every time when he was bucking so hard. Like a fucking  _ horse. _

Dimitri couldn't last long, no way. Not a virgin like him. This felt too good, better than his guilty dreams of his married friends.

Sure enough, after only a few minutes of heaven, crashing into Claude, he burst into him, his legs knocking enough that he sank down to kneel on the ground with him on his lap.

Claude inwardly cursed. Fuck, he didn't want it to stop, he was so  _ close... _

He laid his head against Dimitri's shoulder, panting as he bit his lip, feeling the man spill into him with that blessed heat. He wanted to stop being a whore and be himself again in that moment, but he couldn't fuck this up.

"W-wow... What a  _ savage," _ he whispered, discreetly reaching down to squeeze himself so he didn't fucking come on his client's expensive jacket.

"I-- forgive me," Dimitri rasped out, "I... _ Goddess..." _ He scrambled to get him a beautiful handkerchief, to try and clean up the mess he left. "H-how rude, I'm sorry..."

Claude shook his head. "It's okay. I'm not going to use that pretty thing, we have towels," he promised. He did not want to move, but he had to, he had to. Slowly, he stood up, gasping as Dimitri's enormous cock slipped free of his body. He winced, his own erection red and angry from lack of release. "Really, this is my job, I'm fine." And he  _ was  _ fine. Physically.

"Oh--oh, I'm such an idiot--" Dimitri reached down, wrapping his hand--and the fine cotton, around Claude's arousal. His hands were surprisingly rough--healed over from burns--and so he mostly used the friction of the smooth fabric.

Claude gasped and quickly pulled away. "What are you doing?" he breathed, green eyes wide. "That thing looks expensive, and you were just going to..." He suddenly stopped. Oh.  _ Oh. _ Here was the flaw. Here was the thing that could remind Claude not to fall for strangers.

"Is it just that it seemed disgusting to touch a sex worker?" he asked, suddenly sharp.

"What? No, I... my hands are... rough. I don't want to hurt you." Dimitri seemed horrified, hurt by what he was implying. He turned his hand over, to show the skin. It had been one thing to feel them against Claude’s back. He worried he would be disgusted to touch him there with his hands.

Claude's expression immediately softened. "Oh... Oh goddess, I’m sorry. I've had people like that before," he said, gesturing helplessly. "You know. Who want to fuck me but not touch me with their hands. As if I'll ruin them." He stood there hatefully for a moment.

"No, that's... not it, I thought..."

Dimitri tried to bolster his confidence back up, and forwent the handkerchief to finish him off by hand. As it turned out, the scar tissue just made for interesting texture.

Well. At least this guy was trying. Honestly, it did feel strangely good to feel wrapped up in the soft scarring of his hands, but Claude gently pushed him away. "Please. It's my job to pleasure you. If you took care of me, I'd be the one paying. I can take care of this myself." He smiled winningly and offered him a hand to help him stand. Fuck, Dimitri was heavy. "You've still got twenty minutes though. Any other fantasies you want me to fulfill?"

He'd be dreaming about this one for sure.

"I, um... No... I hadn't really allowed myself to have fantasies-- Oh  _ goddess,  _ did I do that to your neck?" Dimitri took Claude's chin and gently turned it.

Dimitri had left a bite mark that would turn absolutely black come morning. Claude touched it. "Oh... Don't worry about it, I promise." He gave him an odd look. "Most people don't rent rooms here if they don't have fantasies. Are you, um... In gay panic? Like, you got a hot girlfriend but you just want to try it?"

"No, I am not in a relationship." Dimitri sounded a bit distressed more by the idea of girlfriend than any gay panic he might be experiencing. "I have known of my interest in men for some time, however... given my lot in life I am not as easily able to pursue such things..."

Even if they made him feel whole.

"I see," Claude said quietly. It really wasn't his place to pry, but it  _ was _ his nature. "I don't think anyone watched me dance as hard as you did, and you were in the back." He sat back on the booth and spread his legs, wrapping his hand around his own cock and stroking himself, moaning low in the back of his throat as he remembered that piercing blue eye on him. "I hope I lived up to your expectations," he said, gesturing with his free hand to Dimitri's lap.

"Yes, I... I will never forget it. Not for as long as I live."

So earnest. But Claude had seen it, the cracks in his pretty mask. The beast that slept within.

Dimitri tried to put himself together, but he was distracted, unable to look away, and the words left his mouth before he could stop them. "May I?"

Claude really didn't want to let him, didn't want to fall even more under the spell of this man. But he smiled. "Sure."

Dimitri knelt down, so strange to see a man of his standing assume a serving position, with his fine tailoring. Cupping Claude with both hands, he leaned forward, golden locks tickling his thighs as he lapped just a little at the end of his cock, shivering. It was like a lion bowed before him.

Claude hadn't expected that. He thought he was going to jerk him off with his hands. He caught his breath and spread his deliciously bronze thighs to give the large man a place to nest. He caught those golden strands up in his hand, humming as he felt the man's tongue. For a newcomer Dimitri didn't seem terribly shy about it, and propped one of each of Claude's thighs to rest on his shoulders in order to get closer.

He was imitating what he saw Claude doing, wrapping his mouth around his tip, eye turned up to watch him.

Claude could sense his inexperience, but his willingness, and that was enough to make him close his eyes and groan. To wrap his legs around Dimitri's head and lift his hips to his mouth. "Yes... Right there..." he whispered.

Encouraged, Dimitri went on, running his tongue in circles, figure eights.  _ Like this? _ his gaze seemed to ask, his mouth full.

Claude nodded, watching him through hooded eyes, cupping the back of Dimitri's head. "You must really be smitten," he laughed gently. "Most people don't do this for people like me."

Dimitri tried to answer, which just made for a glorious humming around Claude’s arousal.  _ Mmm-mmph. _

Oh, that felt fucking  _ good. _ After being fucked so hard against the wall, it didn't take much longer, even if Dimitri didn't quite know what he was doing. Claude squirmed and tried to push him back. "Stop, I'm going to come," he whimpered, completely unashamed.

Dimitri followed Claude's lead, his instructions, sitting back on his heels, heaving for breath. "W-what?" He asked, dumbfounded. He had been able to make someone else do this?

It was looking at that beautiful face, that breathless expression on a handsome blonde lion that did it for Claude. He bit his lip and spilled over his fist, choking back a cry because he was already too in love with this man. He slumped against the booth and gazed dreamily down at Dimitri.

Dimitri smiled too, but it was... something like relief, like pride. He had made someone feel good enough to do this.

Claude opened his mouth to speak, but then there came the warning blip in the music. The hour was up.

"Hm... a shame," he said, and he meant it, even if he was putting on his seductress act. He reached down, cupping Dimitri's cheek fondly. "I hope this time was worth it." Not exactly very romantic for a first time. But Claude wasn’t here to  _ romance. _

"Thank you," he said, honest, true, as he kissed his hand like a lord of old, "Thank you for your service, I am honored to have been with you. You taught me well."

‘Thank you for your  _ service?’  _ Claude honestly can't help but laugh. "What is this, a Renaissance Faire? Or some military fetish?" But honestly? His weirdly chivalrous attitude was... Sweet. Beautiful, when coming from him. Fuck, he hoped he wasn’t some sort of sexist. Or… maybe that would make it easier not to love him. "Come see me again... Dimitri," he winked.

Just before Dimitri hastily cleaned up and righted his clothing and the door closed, he saw Claude wink just once more.

Sylvain was waiting right outside the door, texting. He turned slowly to grin at him. "So? How was it?"

Dimitri cleared his throat, cheeks warm. "He's... extremely charming. I would like to have company with him again." That was a big admission for Dimitri, and this seemed to dawn on him as his eyes darted to the floor. "Though I am not sure if that is possible. Or wise."

Sylvain pressed a hand over his mouth. He looked almost... Tearful. "Oh goddess... Oh  _ goddess... _ You... You're..." He did this all the way back to the car. He wasn't teasing; well, he was a little bit, but he was also so fucking excited for his poor, repressed friend. "I thought maybe you wouldn't do anything, but you smell like sex!" he gushed happily. "You finally did it! How did it feel? Good? Tell. Me.  _ Everything." _

"I... it feels highly inappropriate to air such matters..." Dimitri was a deep pink now. "Can we not just... go and drink wine and watch films as we planned?”

An actually excellent idea. Dimitri was more pliant with wine.

Felix was highly disappointed that Sylvain had, in his opinion, forced Dimitri's first time to happen in a  _ dungeon, _ but what had passed had passed. So they loosened his lips with wine. Even if Felix acted angry, he was still just as curious as Sylvain.

"So,  _ Claude," _ Sylvain cooed at his tipsy friend. "Quite handsome, no? Felix, Dimitri  _ begged  _ me. He grabbed my arms, threw me on the ground and threatened to kill me if I didn't get him a room..."

"I did--" Dimitri tried to focus, "I did no--No such thing, Felix. You--have my word. I did not--not lay a hand on your husband." He didn't seem to notice the double negative, nursing his wine. "Claude was... very beautiful. And very unclothed," he said. "He offered, and so... I suddenly--realized it was the only thing I-- must do. On this earth. Tonight.”

Sylvain was howling with laughter and while Felix appeared to disapprove, he kept filling Dimitri's glass.

"What happened?" Felix asked, staring straight at him. "What exactly happened with him? You gave him a fake name, right?"

"I picked Matthew," Sylvain offered. "You know, that bastard from high school?"

"I told him my name... it was...  _ lying  _ to not tell him. I don't lie, Sylvain. It's not honorable! Not! Honorable!" He poked his chest with each syllable.

Both Sylvain and Felix went quiet and stiff. This was no longer funny. They exchanged worried looks. "Dimitri!" Felix hissed. "That was about the most fucking  _ stupid  _ thing you could have done!"

"You'll lose the charity if they find out!" Sylvain gasped, covering his mouth.

"I didn't tell him my last name." Dimitri smiled, as if he had been extremely clever.

Both Felix and Sylvain retreated to the kitchen, leaving Dimitri with the wine and the old movie. He couldn't even remember which one it was. They were arguing in whispers, and Felix was clearly pissed, Sylvain distressed. He didn't remember getting horribly weepy drunk that night, sobbing onto Felix's shoulder until Sylvain was utterly banished to the couch, likely for a while.

  
  
  


All that Dimitri thought before he passed out was the way Claude had danced for him in the privacy of the booth.

  
  
  
  



	2. Bonds and Blackmail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing is keeping Dimitri from returning to All the King's Men to see Claude again. But their third meeting is a blow from the gods of fate that Claude wishes he didn't have to endure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick warning: We had to write this chapter TWICE. Because I am a dumbass and accidentally deleted it. So if there's some choppiness, please forgive us. It always sucks to rewrite a scene, especially when the first one turned out so good.
> 
> It physically PAINED us to write the part where the truth comes out; we were like writhing in pain, which is how you know we're invested in their relationship. But this DOES have a happy ending because we're suckers for that, so.... Please just bear with us!
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: bondage, smut, more smut, smut, and then.... the blackmail.

Dimitri awoke in Felix's bed, his head pounding, unable to lift it.

Felix was quick to take care of him. He brought him water and breakfast, and asked him what he remembered of last night.

He took the water gratefully, letting Felix scold and snarl at him like an antagonistic mother hen.

"I went to... an establishment-- Sylvain's club? And I met a beautiful man there... I believe we, we made love." He turned ashen, like he was going to get sick again, "Oh, goddess. I made love to a man."

Felix poured him more water, rolling his eyes. "Congratulations. Do you remember telling him your name? Because it's all over the news."

Dimitri lurched upright.  **_"What?!"_ ** His voice was enough to shake the windows.

Felix sighed and stood up. "I'm kidding. But seriously, you should be more careful. Cornelia is itching to kick you out and take the whole charity out from under you, boar. I don't want to hear another fucking word about how  _ dishonorable  _ it is not to use your name, got it?"

Dimitri bowed his head, staring into his teacup. What would it matter if he stepped away? He was unfit to chair the charity anyway. Except he knew if he did, they would lose sight of the children they were helping. They were forever arguing over funding until Dimitri brought them back to remind them what they were  _ really  _ arguing for.

Sylvain had slept on the couch of course, but for all of Felix's hot temper, it came and went at about the same speed. Sylvain was giving him an apology kiss as Dimitri came downstairs, and all was forgiven.

Sylvain kept elbowing Dimitri and giving him big eyes. He texted him under the table so Felix didn't see.

**SYLVAIN**

wanna go back tho

**DIMITRI**

Please.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Sylvain only brought Dimitri back to the place where it all happened after making him  _ swear  _ he'd tell everyone else that his name was Matthew. The car pulled around back as it had before, where only the employees (and Sylvain) had access. If Lord Gautier was alive to see where his hard-earned money had gone, he'd pitch quite a fit, but Sylvain was proud of his investment; all the more so now that it had gotten his severely repressed friend some action.

"All the King's Men," he sighed wistfully, slinging an arm over Dimitri's shoulders. "Where dreams come true."

Dedue turned his head and nodded as they entered, recognizing them immediately. "Master Gautier. Matthew."

Dimitri was trembling from nerves, but it was easy to mistake that from the Fhirdiad cold. Despite being a tiny bit taller than Sylvain, he hunched a little as he followed his friend, as if hiding behind him. "Thank you," he told Dedue, his cheeks colored dark. "...Dreams..." he muttered to himself, shifting anxiously. What kind of dreams had he been having lately?

"Dedue, my man!" Sylvain grinned, clapping the man on the shoulder and earning the beginnings of a bruise for it. "Damn... Do you even work out?"

"Yes."

"Liar, I've heard you talk about gardening and cooking and nothing else!" Sylvain laughed.

Dedue's eyes betrayed his amusement. "A person need not be limited to two hobbies just because you only have one."

Sylvain clutched his heart, feigning indignation. "How dare you! I have many hobbies! Boys, girls,  _ and  _ nonbinary folks!" He winked broadly. "Take care of Matt a second, will you? I have to find a certain  _ someone _ for him." He vanished into the dark and rhythm of the club.

Dedue turned to Dimitri. "You've returned. To see Claude, I assume?" he asked gently. There was something so reassuring about him.

Dimitri sank back, hiding with him in the back, sighing. Dedue made his shoulders feel less pinched, less... called out. Like this was normal. "Yes," he said, embarrassed for himself. "I... I was rather, convinced, by dear Master Gautier."

He was watching Sylvain traipse across the club like a wild stag, and shifted his shoes. What must it be like, to feel so free?

Dedue didn't turn and stare, just glanced coolly at him, looking rather relaxed himself. "Is that so? Then... You did not want to see him?"

"No," Dimitri said, too quickly, realizing how desperate he sounded. "I--I want to see him more than anything." He glanced at Dedue, thoughtful. "You... check us when you come in, what--are you looking for?" Maybe he could talk business. Work. As if he weren't standing about in a dungeon waiting for a mysterious, beautiful dancer to sweep him off his feet. Again.

"Weapons, drugs," Dedue said, eyes moving about the club to check on the workers. "Anything that might be used to hurt someone. But you are a friend of Master Gautier. So as long as you do not carry guns, there is no need to check you." A real smile touched his lips now, instead of just his eyes. "He may seem carefree, but as his friend, I know you understand how preciously Master Gautier guards his employees."

"I do." Dimitri smiled as Sylvain got a big kiss on the cheek from one of his dancers, sloppy, smearing bright lipstick down his jaw. Felix would kill him for getting it on his shirt. His smile softened, and he hugged himself. "...And what about--about other weapons? Not--not guns." Judging by how red his ears got, it was easy for Dedue to figure out what kind of weapons he meant.

Dedue did not seem surprised or judgmental. It was exactly that attitude that set Dimitri at ease. "I have confiscated many others. Whips, flogs, handcuffs, that sort of thing. But clients are not permitted to bring their own from the outside. We cannot be sure of their quality and safety. We have a room here dedicated to such things that are approved for use." He nodded at him. "If you wish to see it, I would ask Master Gautier directly."

Dimitri shivered again, imagining. A room... A whole room. When Sylvain returned to him, Dimitri didn't even allow him a greeting before he reached out and grasped Sylvain's arm, almost too tight. "I want--I want to see the room with the--with the things. The weapons." It was terribly awkward coming from him, but Sylvain had grown used to this.

Sylvain's eyes glittered with amusement. He'd rarely seen Dimitri get so excited since the tragic events that took his family and his eye, and now twice in as many days. "Sure thing, but don't break my arm, Mitya," he laughed. "Hold down the fort, Dedue!" He waved over his shoulder as he toted Dimitri along to the back.

The room was small, but filled. Filled wall to wall with all many of things, less than half of which Dimitri understood the proper use for. Sylvain seemed proud of it. "Normally only employees are allowed back here, but take your pick. Anything for you, Mitya."

Dimitri stepped into the room, his gaze filled with wonder and terror. Now that he’d had his fill of what it felt like to sate desire, he’d been craving… other things. His gloved hand reached out to touch some of the toys, only to draw back, either afraid of them, or afraid of breaking them. He lingered on a flog, touching the dangling leather, swallowing tight.

"People... lots of people enjoy this."

Sylvain realized then what this was about. "Sure," he said gently, putting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing. "You're not alone. How long have you thought about this stuff, Mitya? You know you can always talk to me about anything, right?"

Dimitri bent his head down a little to rest his brow against his shoulder.

"I--I thought--I thought I was sick, that... That it was fine for other people, but--Not for me. Not for who I am, what we do."

The Foundation. Of course; if it came out that not only was he homosexual, but interested in such things, it would be easy to misconstrue his work. Work with children, which required a squeaky clean persona. The misery had sunken into Dimitri's face for so long that it had taken root.

Sylvain stepped around and lifted Dimitri's chin, coaxing gently. "Hey, hey... You're  _ not  _ sick. You're not. People are just closed-minded." He patted his cheek affectionately. "Cheer up. I got some good news, wanna hear it? Claude apparently wasn't supposed to be working tonight, but when I called, he said he was happy to come in for you. For  _ you.  _ Isn't that great? He likes you!" He didn't want to get Dimitri's hopes too high. After all, it could be that Claude was just interested in the money. But Sylvain also really wanted to see Dimitri smile again. Just once.

Dimitri leaned into his hand like a puppy might, his pale lashes brushing over his thumb. He couldn't shake the feeling that this was wrong, that this somehow confirmed--

His good eye fixated on a simple leather muzzle, with steel bars, like one used for a dog. Like one used for an animal. "What if I am a monster?"

Sylvain didn't know what to say. Every time he tried to tell him he wasn't, Dimitri didn't believe him. He knew what  _ Felix _ would say. But he was not callous enough to repeat his husband. It would just sound like a joke from him.

"If you are, then so am I," he offered instead, lifting the muzzle down from the wall and offering it to him to try. "I've tried almost everything in here, Mitya. And enjoyed most of it. Besides... I own this place. So I'm like... The king of monsters," he grinned.

Dimitri ducked his head like an obedient animal, an invitation to let Sylvain buckle the muzzle onto him. An ultimate act of trust, extended to Sylvain--and by proxy, to the stranger, Claude.

Sylvain hesitated only because he realized that he wouldn't be the only one seeing Dimitri like this. His dearest friend was fragile at the best of times. He really should have spent more time investigating Claude before allowing this.

But at the same time, Dimitri seemed so smitten, how could he deny him anything?

Sylvain gently fastened the muzzle on so that the only discomfort was intentional. It restricted Dimitri's breath. He could still speak in a muffled fashion, but the device made it not much worth it. He touched Dimitri’s cheek above the leather. "Are you sure?" he whispered fretfully.

The sound Dimitri gave was like a growl or a rumble, but it seemed affirmative. It was beautiful, to see him this way, his lips hidden behind bars. A secret treasure kept. As if that didn't get his point across, he nodded.

Not for the first time and not for the last, Sylvain felt a bit of a sting of jealousy. He was happily married and, to be honest, Felix didn't much care what he did or with whom, but.

There was always the longing for Dimitri in him.

He forced a smile. "All right, then. Point out some things you want to try. I'll have Claude bring them to you."

Dimitri's shyness almost won out, but finally, he chose a leather whip before he was too overwhelmed. Then, he was spirited into one of the private rooms, a plush affair with a great deal of velvet and dark curtains. It wasn’t like the one he’d sampled last night. There wasn’t an hour time limit here. There was a bed, of course, but also a table sporting a vast array of straps and levers that made his fingertips numb to think about for too long.

What was he to do here, while he waited? He hung up his designer coat, taking care not to crinkle the shoulders. Did he get completely naked? He had no idea. In the end he was left with all still on but his shoes and coat.

Maybe this was a terrible idea. Maybe this was a mistake. But he remembered the feeling of the warmth of Claude's skin against his own, and hesitation simply bled away.

He waited, adjusting to the muzzle. In all honesty, he had no idea how much time passed. All he could do was familiarize himself with the room, touching the bed, the leather straps, the cold steel of the table. Everything was meticulously clean and, in a way, it stole into his mind that maybe it was new. Maybe he would be the first to use it. Why was that exciting to him?

The only sound was the labor of his breathing through the muzzle until Claude appeared through the opposite door, as if they both came from different worlds. It certainly made sense.

He wasn't dressed like a stripper at all today. It almost looked like he'd just come from a very different job, matching Dimitri in a blouse, although his was unbuttoned almost to the navel, showing off the copper of his chest, every muscle neatly defined. He was not muscled like Dimitri or Dedue, but he was lithe; the sort that would make a good swordsman if such people still existed (Felix and his fencing and kendo didn’t count).

Claude carried a black bag.

"Hey," he smiled and suddenly it didn't matter what Dimitri was wearing because before that smile, everyone was naked as the day they were born. The curl of Claude's lips stripped him of every stitch, every defense, every wall, until he was nothing but a man. Or perhaps even less than that.

He closed the door and they were alone.

Dimitri trembled before him, and despite himself, found himself on his knees, his hands, sunken down before him. He wanted--wanted this man to tame the miserable beast in his heart, to hush its snarling and growling. The man crawled on all fours to Claude's feet, prowled, his great shoulders shifting, hands spreading out wide, like claws.

Claude would have recognized this a very different creature than the one he had encountered. But his smile did not once falter. He set the bag down and crouched as if coming home from work to greet his dog, reaching out to brush his fingertips over the muzzle.

"What beautiful beast is this?" he murmured. He seemed to know just what to say. But rules were rules; he couldn't just start the scene without stating them. And he harbored no personal vendetta against this particular man, this particular mark anyway. He'd show him a good time. He  _ wanted  _ to show him a good time. "Have you slipped into the space already?" he asked, brushing back the long, unkempt bangs of the beast before him. "I'm afraid that won't do, as much as you look ready for me to devour. Do you know the red light system?"

Dimitri gave a little nod. Sylvain had explained it to him before. Red light--don't touch. Yellow, slow down, be cautious. Green, go, all was well. He pushed into his hand, a bit bossy, an insistent creature. His hands found Claude's shins, and attempted to climb up over his knees.

Claude laughed quietly. "Well! Someone's insistent tonight." He couldn't deny that some part of him wanted this purely for the man. Dimitri was...  _ Good.  _ Not just handsome, not just pretty. Claude must have had dozens of partners in his time and most of them were ten times more skilled than Dimitri was. But not a single one was this sincere.

And this  _ cute. _ He ruffled his hair like a dog. Yesterday morning, if he'd thought he'd wake up and roll out of bed finding a man as enormous as Dimitri was  _ cute, _ he wouldn't believe himself.

"Sylvain tells me you like it a little rough, but that's only in theory, yeah?" he asked as he got to his feet, gently pushing him off his legs. "But you've never actually done anything?"

Dimitri shook his head, and tried to speak, though it was muffled and tight. "Last night was-- the first time." Hard to believe with how eager he was. Yet, clearly true, as he sat on his heels, face tipped up to him expectantly. Longingly.

Claude nodded. He had figured that out already. But he had to ask. Technically, Dimitri hadn't signed any of the appropriate waivers. When he knew the boss, Claude supposed, he didn't have to. And he'd only be using a fake name anyhow.

He smirked over his shoulder and winked. "Then I guess you'll be wanting some beast taming...  _ Mitya." _ He was fond of the nickname Sylvain used. "I know you're supposed to be Matthew," he shrugged, reaching out from the back and snapping a pair of black leather gloves over his wrists with authority and purpose. "But no beast deserves that ugly name. Especially not a pretty one like you."

He stood over him, holding up a collar. "Be a good boy now." He fastened it roughly over Dimitri's neck, giving the lead a sharp tug, enough to experiment, enough to choke just a little.

Indeed, Dimitri lurched forward, falling across his feet. He snarled up at him, swiping a clawlike hand at his thighs, his teeth heard gnashing behind the muzzle. That beautiful blue eye lacked any light now. Even his pupil had blown out near black, and used his broad back to rub against Claude's legs, near tipping him over. There was a near constant rumbling-- purrs? Or growls?

In Claude's view, there was indeed something so elegant about seeing a grown man on his knees, prowling like a wolf. The truth of it was that all humans hid beasts within, after all. Giving into that side in a safe space was necessary.

Of course, this was not a safe space for Dimitri. Not with Claude here. Not with the cell phone camera he'd brought in to capture these delicate moments when Dimitri wasn't looking.

He snapped the lead more tightly, until froth appeared under the muzzle. "Heel."

Dimitri snapped at him, but it was harmless, as he sat on his haunches at Claude's feet, this massive man in his pressed shirt and pants that may have cost more than most made in a week. The obedience was short lived though, as he was soon up again, not giving Claude time to prep, pulling and tugging at his hips, his thighs. Either he had utterly given into instinct, or he was purposefully being obstinate, to be punished, to be struck.

Claude smacked him hard, a warning clap over the back of the head. He'd not start immediately with the whip on a newcomer, no matter how strong he may be. "Such a disobedient pup," he frowned, shooting him a glare as he tipped his chin up in pure command. "You'll require a firm hand, I can tell." He moved to the bed, yanking the led painfully behind him. When he turned and sat, he spread his thighs, the crease of his jeans as pressed as Dimitri's more expensive clothing. "Come  _ here." _

Dimitri crept across the bed, assuming, somehow, that he would be pinning Claude down. After all, once he was knelt on the bed, it was clear how much bigger he was than Claude, how much broader. Yet it was Claude who held the leash. As he put his big hands on Claude's shoulders, his eye growing wild, it was clear too that Claude's hand would need to be firmer.

Inside Dimitri's mind was... a strange feeling--warm, burning, but somehow safe. Someone else was in charge, someone else guided his actions, and someone finally was treating him like the beast he was.

Claude resisted the push, but damn, this beast was strong. He seized the strap of the muzzle and jerked back, refusing to give him control.  _ "No." _ His eyes, so seductive and green the night before, were hard and unyielding now. He moved his hand just a bit, clutching Dimitri’s hair as he leaned back against the headboard and dragged the beast’s muzzled face down to his thighs instead. "You  _ will  _ show your master respect." There was no room for debate.

Dimitri struggled, but slowly, the cords of his muscles unwound, and he settled, his chin on Claude's thigh, pressed into the denim. He smelled of sweet cologne, and his nails dug into the fibers of Claude's jeans. Even behind the muzzle, he could see Dimitri lick his lips, bear his teeth. He was controlled. But only just.

Claude's stern scowl melted into a smile. His grip loosened--just a bit--in Dimitri's hair, and instead of pulling, he stroked, rewarding him. "There you are, precious one. When you behave, you can have everything you want." He coaxed his head a bit closer to the meeting of his thighs. He had to admit, while the man's tongue had felt exceptionally good the night before, the sight of the muzzle was somehow even more thrilling. The danger of a wild animal against his body, with no guarantee he wouldn’t just snap.

Dimitri shuffled himself closer, nuzzling into the stiff place between his legs, using the muzzle to his advantage. His legs curled behind him as he pulled himself close, a heavy weight anchoring Claude down. He shoulder-checked Claude’s legs apart, trying to get closer, greedy.

Claude seized the muzzle's strap again. Predictable. But not unpleasant. He sneered as he yanked Dimitri's head back one way, and ripped the lead the opposite direction; just enough force to make his breath stop.

"What did I say about behaving?" he warned.

Claude could see Dimitri's pulse quicken against his throat, his chest heave as he struggled for air, but his eye rolled back a little in utter bliss. He sank down, even tucking his hands beneath him like a cat. Or perhaps, a lion. There was a great huff, but he obeyed.

Claude was used to having men under his heel. But none so beautiful and breathtaking as this one. He tried to block out Hilda's warnings; as if he needed that right now.

"Good boy," he purred, stroking his hair once again. For a moment, he allowed the moment to just be what it was. Just a breathing moment, letting his client breathe through the leather and steel, feel the clutch of the collar at his throat, the soft hand in his hair; tender but promising control. Dimitri shut his good eye, pressing into that hand--and Claude could feel the utter trust this idiot boy had in him. This foolish, fragile thing, built like a refrigerator but as docile as a kitten in his hold. By now his shirt was soaked through with sweat, far too excited and they’d barely begun.

Dimitri was deafened by the pounding of his heart in his ears, his trousers now uncomfortably tight.

Claude wanted nothing more than to brush aside that eyepatch, see him fully. It was more than curiosity; he wanted to know every part of him. It was a selfish thing to want when he was going to ruin his life.

_ No, _ he comforted himself. No, it will be a valuable lesson for him. Besides, Claude wouldn't have any reason to expose him. He knew Dimitri would just cough up the dough before letting such a thing happen.

_ Poor thing must be hot, _ Claude reasoned as he reached back, smiling as he unfastened his jeans. "Hungry?" he asked, with all the innocence of a man feeding his pet. "Come here."

He wanted to feel that muzzle against him.

Dimitri was done being patient and all but dove into his open jeans fly, though his mouth was covered, he nuzzled and pressed the leather against sensitive skin, the metal bars pushing into his body. He was already coated in sweat, his hair long and ticklish as it danced across Claude's belly, whispered on his thighs.

Well, Claude generally prided himself on being in control, but he had never seen anyone so eager to put their mouth on him, even with a barrier, and groaned, parting his thighs as much as possible to let him in.  _ Fuck, _ he'd never gotten so hard so quickly without being touched. And now, the cold of the steel and the press of smoothed leather against him was like a heart attack waiting to happen.

He kept a tight grip on Dimitri's damp hair. "E-easy boy..." he breathed, his chest a broken metronome. The intensity certainly wasn't stayed by the hot breath he could feel through the muzzle's small openings. Dimitri was panting on him, practically frothing with need. As he couldn't take him into his mouth, his enormous hands began to travel, to wrap around his member, utterly covering him with only one hand and a part of his palm. He ran the thumb across the tip, making the nerves sensitive and pink.

Claude hissed as the rough skin of scars scratched across such vulnerable skin. By the  _ Goddess, _ it was heaven. He allowed this too, even though he really shouldn't if he wanted to maintain control. Besides, they had a lot he wanted to do with him.  _ For _ him. 

Carefully, he placed a boot against Dimitri's shoulder. He didn't push yet, just reminded him that his time to touch was limited.

Dimitri understood, and took full advantage of the time he had, twisting and running his hands, his scarred fingers, up and around Claude's length in a spiral, all the while panting and breathing heat onto him as if he was resuscitating him, though wildly erratic. Those massive shoulders kept bumping into Claude's thighs to lie him down, but somehow he never seemed to tip off-balance. The golden strands of his hair slid through Claude's fingers like fine thread, well-kept once but now wild, damp with sweat.

Claude had to stop him or he'd be finished. He pressed against that broad shoulder, careful not to jerk; it was difficult not to, with the way Dimitri's hands were playing with his nerves. "Good, good... Now get down," he breathed, pointing at the floor, once more reminding him who was the beast and who was his master.

Dimitri wasn't finished with him. He continued his work, bunching up his shoulders like a lion's hackles. His hands dragged across him in a sensual carousel, fingers drumming just a little, feeling every rise and valley. He didn't even look up to his voice, lost.

_ Fuck, _ Claude really wanted to let this friction finish him off. But that would be giving Dimitri too much control. And that wasn't what he came for.

It would be a different story if they were lovers. He'd just give in. But this time was paid for.

He kicked more sharply, and Dimitri was forced back, forced to let go.

"I'm only going to say it once more," he warned. "Get. On. The  _ floor." _

Dimitri rolled back onto the floor, with a loud thud, enough that would bruise him the next day, a souvenir. For a moment he lay on his back, stunned, until he rolled onto his knees again. Though instead of with his knees together, a proper gentleman, he crouched, legs far apart, his back arched, as if waiting to pounce on him at any moment.

Claude quietly slipped the lead over his wrist and wrapped it tight around his leather gloves as he sat up. "So you insist on defiance," he said, deceptively smooth. "Very well." His free hand disappeared into the bag and withdrew the flog, which he tapped warningly against the muzzle. "That's all right. I've tamed wild beasts before, who think their strength services them best as predators. But you are  _ not.  _ In this, you are prey."

He sat iron straight at the edge of the bed and folded his legs, hiding himself from view, taking away the reward. "Make good use of the carrot and the stick and any beast will respond. You are nothing more than a slave to your instincts, as all beasts are. But I will make you slave to  _ me." _

He yanked the lead forward so that he knocked Dimitri to his knees, forcing him to be on the defensive, unable to pounce. Dimitri fell forward, unable to keep himself balanced, and gave a little yelp. It didn't seem to be an inherently bad sound though, as he lowered his golden head, muscles unspooling before Claude like a beautiful silk ribbon. It made him deceptively soft looking, despite the power that hid in that docile pose.

"Master," he murmured behind the muzzle.

Claude smirked. "How beautiful. But your obedience  _ now  _ does not make up for your defiance  _ before." _ He stood up, and suddenly snapped his boot down on the lead, forcing Dimitri's chin to the floor. "If you know what's good for you, you'll remain in this position until I am finished with you."

He bent over him, leaning into his ear, watching the involuntary shudder roll through his beast. "Or our time together will be cut short."

Dimitri’s jaw hit the ground with a smack, but the muzzle protected him a little. He gave a tiny whimper, which was enough to tell Claude he understood, shrinking even further down into the floor. His breathing was labored, but not painful, as he panted eagerly for more, his eye tracking the flicker of the flog hungrily.

Claude moved out of his sight, circling around behind him. With a silent, pained breath, he slipped the cell phone from his pocket and took the first picture. Of Dimitri, still clothed but muzzled and leashed like a dog. There would be more incriminating pictures to come.

He hated himself for doing this. But he soothed himself by remembering that none of these pictures would see the light of day. None of them ever did, and he'd taken pictures of far more wicked men and women in his lifetime.

Of course, Dimitri didn't see it. The next thing he felt was Claude's boot on his back, pressing him down, and a hand circled over his waist, palming at his cock through his polyester pants.

"So hard already... But your size more than makes up for that. They certainly don't make them like you anymore."

The moan was immediate, as if he had been waiting for this his whole life. Perhaps he had. It was a purely instinctive reaction for him to grind against his hand, which he then fought to keep himself still, keep himself obedient.

"Oho... so eager. Well, I suppose I can't fault you for that." Claude squeezed a bit, rubbing the outline of Dimitri's shaft through the fabric. "I think you like this," he teased, stroking even slower. "You enjoy being treated like a breeding beast. Perhaps I should  _ stud  _ you after all."

He knew that, for most people who enjoyed this sort of thing, even the language was enough.

Dimitri squirmed, his entire body twisting up, spine arching. His very fingers clawed into the floor, and Claude could almost see the hardwood splinter. Just how powerful  _ was  _ he? Knowing he had someone so strong under his boot was utterly  _ delicious. _

"No words from my beast? Not even a plea?" He squeezed painfully tight and didn't let go until Dimitri was gasping behind the muzzle. "Well, then, maybe I should stop," he threatened, the smirk clear in his tone.

Dimitri was whimpering without ceasing, and finally begged, raising his legs, his ass, all the more for Claude’s access, voice strangely small, but rough.  _ "Please...." _

Claude smiled, pleased, and it shone through his voice so that Dimitri knew it, even if he couldn't see him. "There's my good boy." He removed his hand and stood, jerking the lead. "Get up." As soon as he obeyed, Claude yanked him around, not bothering to be gentle at all. "Expensive shirt for an  _ animal  _ to wear," he commented flatly before snaring the front of it and ripping downward so that the buttons popped right off, exposing his scars and muscles equally.

Dimitri sucked in his breath, amazed. He wouldn't have guessed that Claude had that level of strength, though the fine pearl buttons bouncing around his feet told him otherwise. The smooth Duscur cotton came away, falling to his elbows. His good eye had fallen half-closed, sweat beading at his brow. The muzzle impeded some of his breathing still, and so Dimitri's chest rose and fell like a tide during a hurricane, struggling for purchase.

Claude gave a low whistle and reached forward. He hadn't really seen him shirtless. The night before, he was the only one naked after all. And now Dimitri could only watch as Claude rubbed and squeezed his pectoral with delight.

"Good tits," Claude said slyly, taking a momentary pause from their game to compliment him.  _ Fuck, he's perfect in every goddess damned way. _ "I'd expect no less from a prized stud."

Dimitri looked down at himself, scarred, broken, lost. What did he mean? Tits? He'd heard Sylvain use the term before, but he wasn't quite sure what it implied. He always assumed it was something on women, given Sylvain's singsong description of them.

"Thank... you?" He was slipping out of the space, thinking too much, feeling too much, realizing now what he was risking to be patted and called good. That wasn't what he wanted. If he was going to sin, let it be because he was already a sinner.

He lunged for Claude's neck.

Claude could see him thinking. It was obvious; his brows twitched and he suddenly looked older, furrowed. That was his fault. He was supposed to be taking care of him. But as soon as Dimitri moved, he reacted. He scowled and yanked the lead down so the taller man pitched forward, only to have Claude land a stinging blow to his cheek. Even with the leather in the way, it hurt a great deal.

"Who gave you permission to speak?"

Dimitri shuddered, sliding easily back into the role of a beast, the warm comfort of not having to grapple with human emotions, the misery of his body, his life. 

A beast could be slaughtered, and no one would grieve.

Dimitri turned his head, allowing Claude a shot at his other cheek.

It was not the leather of Claude's glove that met Dimitri this time. The flog's handle stung even more than a slap across his face and it sent Dimitri reeling back in surprise. As he stumbled, Claude seized the sleeve of his shirt and tore the rest of it off. It tangled temporarily in the lead as Claude wrenched it away before he reached out, shoving Dimitri back against the bed with his foot once more, lording over him as Dimitri fell to its soft sheets.

"Hands and knees, like the beast you are."

Dimitri fell to his hands and knees, obedient, but the rumble in his chest, deep in his throat, went on. He sank from his hands down to his elbows, straining to stretch his neck out, stare up at Claude.

Claude wasn't having it. The flog struck out against Dimitri's unprotected back, and he watched it arch beautifully as the skin flared that angry red. "I said hands and knees. Have to check my investment." He traced the flog around and down, tapping against his nipples, forcing him to come back up, no matter how weary he was. "We're just getting started."

Dimitri understood  _ investment. _ A part of him he was trying to bury thought of the ledgers of the Foundation, how much of it depended on donors, who would likely vanish if he was discovered here. He choked those feelings down with violent prejudice, strangled his inhibitions until they were still. For all he was on his elbows, it didn't seem to be from lack of energy. It seemed to be either a predatory stance, or the mark of a beast lifting its tail to breed. Either way, he shifted onto his hands, longing to catch the flog across the mouth.

Claude rarely felt he was doing a poor job. He was good at this; it had been a long time since the beginning, and he never got any complaints. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was going to slow for Dimitri's liking. He had been wanting to show him a good time, and since it was his first time with bondage, he'd planned on going slow.

Maybe he shouldn't though. Maybe Dimitri didn't want him to.

He traced the outline of Dimitri's form with the flog's handle, tapping impatiently to improve the posture, mentally running through a list of all the things he'd brought to try on him. Maybe he'd enjoy a little  _ anguish. _

Claude slapped between Dimitri's legs harder than he'd been doing, seeing the fabric dampen as his cock wept from lack of attention. He reached around, unfastened Dimitri’s pants and dragged them forcefully down around his knees, exposing him to the cool air. He seized his cock, just holding him in his fist and squeezing all of him at once, painfully, jerking him side to side as if tugging a handle. "Hm. Certainly a big boy. But I already know how well you use this."

And then, for the first time in Dimitri's life, he felt a gloved finger rub and stretch against his entrance. He gasped, seeing stars as he nearly crumpled, his head falling between his shoulders, hanging there as he panted, his thighs twitching, spreading open. Right now, it wasn't painful, just strange, stimulating. He ground back against the glove, almost pushing Claude in.

The flog, with all its alien sensations, struck down on Dimitri's thigh to stop him from moving, but it was difficult to be still, considering everything was so new and thrilling. Claude didn't speak, didn't tell him not to move, but he didn't have to. Dimitri just felt him continue to rub and press and even stretch him apart a little bit, as if searching for something deep within him.

Dimitri couldn't keep his mouth closed, even with the muzzle. He moaned, deep and guttural, and let his jaw hang open as much as the gag would allow, his eye fluttering, rolling back, mouth filling thick with spit.

For someone’s first time, Claude normally wouldn't just finger fuck a man dry, and with gloves on no less. But he'd been going too slow for Dimitri's tastes and simply said, "Nod once for green."

Dimitri nodded with enthusiasm. It hurt, it hurt  _ desperately  _ and yet Dimitri craved it more than anything, longed for the pain to drown out his mind.

Well. Claude supposed he was finger-fucking a man dry. With gloves on, no less.

Without warning, he pushed one finger in up to the knuckle, twisting and flexing to press his warm inner walls out of his way. It burned, the leather  _ burned, _ and it felt hot and intrusive, like a dull knife.

Now Dimitri screamed, but it was more like a lion's roar. He threw his head side to side, blonde hair whirling like a mane, but he did not move out of Claude's hands, did not lash out against him, even though he was not shackled.

Claude waited only for a moment so he could figure out if the reaction was positive or not. He grinned. "Sensitive. That means you're still untouched. Good, good." Cruelly, he withdrew, and the flog came down once more on that scarred white thigh. "Sit up."

Dimitri shot upright, his back straight as a post. That must have hit a different nerve, the one that had sat him in cotillion classes, the fine manners of private school. His jaw raised level with the horizon, and he clutched at the bedsheets.

Claude chuckled to himself. How cute. He was in no hurry as he jerked the pants off Dimitri's feet, finally leaving him bare before forcing his head back down against the mattress, a hand wrapped around his throat.

"Know what this is?" he asked, producing a small, metal pear-shaped object before Dimitri's one good eye. "This is going to open you up a little bit."

He had touched the thing with his fingers in Sylvain's room of toys earlier. He thought it was some kind of... decoration, perhaps. Or a bell, given the slats along the sides.

Claude could only smile at his innocent curiosity. "Don't worry. I've used it on other beasts just like you.  _ Highly _ effective."

When he disappeared behind him again, Dimitri didn't hear him slide the phone from his pocket, take another, more salacious picture. Collared, muzzled, and naked. And there would be no mistaking him, even at this angle. Of course, all Dimitri felt was Claude's boot on his head again, shoving his face into the mattress.  _ "Stay," _ he commanded. And then Dimitri felt his fingers again, prodding, prying, working him open, the friction more than merely painful from how thick and dry the gloves were. There was something strangely wonderful about that too; Claude not touching him skin to skin, as if acknowledging his beasthood.

It was beyond invasive now, and had fallen into actual torment, but that suited Dimitri just fine. He burrowed into the bedding, growling low, muffled against the fibers. His lone eye watered, tears coursed down his single cheek, hidden in the bed, but for the first time in a while, his tears were not from grief.

Dimitri was not given much time to growl and cry into the sheets. The strap of the muzzle jerked him upright, and he had to struggle to breathe again as he felt the leather dig into his cheekbones.

"Hey." Claude sounded serious behind him. "Green? This is the last time I'm going to ask."

_ "Yes," _ Dimitri snapped, and took a swipe with one hand for Claude's face, impatient, impetuous.

Claude himself didn't mind his impatience, but he was playing in a  _ persona  _ that minded. With a snarl, he ground down on his head even more, forcing a whimper from him. "You don't talk to me that way. You don't talk at all."

And then there was something freezing inside of him all the sudden, a sharper pain than Dimitri could ever have imagined, being thrust in by Claude's fingers.

Dimitri screamed again, his entire body bucking and twisting beneath his hand, as he clawed mercilessly at the sheets, ripping them apart with only his nails, like claws.

He felt like his body was being obliterated.

Claude dropped the flog, his hand plunged into the bag. Now was not the time for little games. 

There was a silencing  _ CRACK _ just over Dimitri's head, the flicker of a leather strap by his face, slitting open the delicate skin of his cheek as he was momentarily deafened. The whip cracked over his head again until he was still.

Dimitri forced himself not to move, but he could still be seen, shivering helplessly.

Claude leaned over him, smirking as he kissed the bloody cut on his cheekbone, weeping into the muzzle. "Mm... delicious," he purred to him. "Be a good boy now while I adjust the device."

And he felt Claude's fingers invading him again, but this time, he felt the warmth of his skin, felt the contrasting coolness of oil. It was somewhat soothing--until Dimitri felt the metal inside of him expand like glass over fire. Whatever Claude had planted inside him (that strange pear, no doubt), was somehow growing inside him. Swelling.

Dimitri couldn't even bring himself to move, couldn't fight, not with this, not with this exquisite torture. Froth was leaking from between the bars of his muzzle, and he was utterly tame in his hands. Claude could do whatever he wished with him, his good eye no longer sparkling, but clouded with pain, with pleasure.

Claude wasn't going to give him the release he craved just yet. Almost gently, he fitted something over Dimitri's cock--a silver ring that squeezed just a little too much, pinched. Refused relief.

"Can't have you just doing as you please, now, can we?" The lead snapped taut around Dimitri's throat, the collar giving him no slack. "On the floor."

Dimitri staggered backwards and near fell to the floor on his back, but just managed to catch himself, knees shaking. He was obeying automatically, but couldn’t hide his delicious hisses and whines.

Claude smirked and stepped on the lead instead, forcing him to his knees. His thighs trembled, screaming in protest of this treatment when there was a foreign object stuck inside him. But when he looked up at Claude, still dressed and immaculate, grinning down at him, he felt his heart jump into his throat.

Dimitri wished, for more than one reason, that his mouth was free. Mostly, it was because he wished to worship Claude with his lips, kiss his feet, take him into his mouth. Whatever he wished. His eye turned up to him, utterly besotted with love.

Claude should have looked away, but he was trapped by him. Oh no. Oh no no  _ no. _ He knew that look. That dangerous look. Dangerous for him and for Dimitri alike.

_ No, don't look at me like that. _ But he couldn't say that of course. He was sure he'd entirely lose his nerve.

"Hm." He reached down instead, chucked Dimitri under the chin like he might affectionately to a dog. "Perhaps when you've learned not to bite, I can take this off. Give you a treat. What do you think, beast?"

Dimitri gave an affirmative whine, so needy, longing. His hands kneaded a little at the floor.

Maybe if Claude was rougher, maybe if he was less courteous, Dimitri would stop looking at him like that. Would stop trusting him. He reached down, seized the strap, intending to rip it off of him. For some reason, he didn't. He lifted it gently away, thumbing at the creases they left in his cheeks, touching the wound the lash made just under the eyepatch. Even Claude’s body and instincts were betraying him now.

After only a moment's hesitation, he brushed the eyepatch away too, and found himself brushing aside those bangs to see the mess of white scars that hid beneath. Why was he suddenly getting all sentimental? Was it that he maybe had never seen anyone so scarred?

Dimitri turned his head, and with surprising gentleness, took his fingers into his mouth, sucking on them, wrapping his tongue across his knuckles.

Claude watched him, watched him suck on his fingers and realized that, with the surprising idiocy that always seemed to fall into step with his genius, he had fallen in love with him. He'd forgotten where they were, he'd forgotten his own brilliant schemes. Remembered only now that he'd missed a lot of opportunities to get pictures, just... watching him.

Carefully, he pressed his fingers in deeper, keeping his other hand (this one still gloved) on the empty socket of his face. Caressing the spot like an apology.

_ "Beautiful..." _ The word escaped Claude's lips before he meant to say it.

Dimitri’s good eye slipped shut as he leaned into his hand, smearing the blood from the flog onto Claude's thumb. Tamed, domesticated before him;  _ tender _ even. Those teeth could rip his fingers off at the joint, but they did not, his throat softening to allow more of Claude's hand inside him.

For one moment, Claude considered throwing his plans away. Considered confessing, letting Dimitri walk away unscathed. Or maybe never telling him; maybe just keeping him for himself. And if he was the only one who depended on that money, he would have. Only his obligations to others kept him steady now.

"Good boy," he said, quiet but firm, not letting the waver creep into his tone. He stroked his hair and removed his fingers at last, getting to his feet, tugging open his belt. "I guess you've earned a treat." He'd been so, so hard for a while now, but he knew how to hold back. He wondered if he'd even be able to with those lips wrapped around his cock.

Dimitri moved on an instinct he didn't know he had, and crept forward, taking him into his mouth without an ounce of hesitation.

For once, once in his life, the panicked screaming of his brain was quiet. He was filled with other desires, other needs. He had entered the subspace of a beast, just as Claude called him, and he wanted to just… exist here forever. Nothing to hide, only to chase his desires here with this beautiful stranger.

Claude chewed the inside of his lip to keep quiet as Dimitri sucked. He was still so inexperienced at this, but he was enthusiastic, and Claude allowed Dimitri to hear him moan his appreciation, show him that he enjoyed this. He stroked his hair and let him do as he pleased, trying to wrap his head around whether or not there was some other way to get money.

But he had exhausted his assets and he was running out of time.

Dimitri's long lashes pressed against Claude's belly, as he struggled to breathe. His own member was throbbing, desperate for relief, bruising the skin around him. But Dimitri was so focused on him that Claude's belly clawed with both guilt and arousal as he snapped another picture, smooth and unseen. He knew for a fact that he'd be using these pictures for his own personal benefit later.

He hummed and finally put his hand on the back of Dimitri's head, pressing him forcefully over his cock and not letting him up. Claude could feel him choke, struggle to breathe with his mouth and throat so full. He gagged, but pressed on, burying Claude in the back of his neck, wrapping him in his cheeks.

"So determined," Claude laughed quietly, taking pity on him and pulling his head back, keeping a firm grip on his hair. And how lovely Dimitri looked, peering up through his bangs with that fucked-out look even when he hadn't been righteously fucked yet. Claude's cock rested on his lips, that pretty mouth swollen and pink and  _ wet _ with saliva. "You want more, my lovely beast? Or would you rather suck on something else?"

Dimitri lapped at his lips and strained forward, greedy and sliding further back into a bestial desire, not waiting for permission as he ought.

Claude couldn't exactly argue with that. Someone sucking at him so greedily... He could almost pretend it was because of who he was and not simply because they were in the middle of a scene. Honestly, it was impressive for a man who'd never done this sort of thing before, to take all of him so well without gagging. Maybe he was one of those rare sorts that didn't have the reflex.

He pulled him back by his hair, only to slide fully back in again, pressing Dimitri's nose to his stomach again as he bent over him, whispering. "You are so  _ full  _ with me," he purred, reaching down to massage the bulge of Dimitri's throat.

Finally he did choke, but Dimitri bulled through it,, breathing in sharp through his nose until he could continue, determined as ever, utterly encompassing Claude, grasping his thighs for balance.

Claude moaned; how could he not? The face Dimitri was making, the feeling of his throat constricting around him, that one glorious eye trained up at him like that? Fine. Dimitri deserved this if it was what he wanted. Claude forcibly held his head in place, snapping his hips forward, listening to him gurgle and whimper around his girth before finally pulling free.

"Tongue out."

He obeyed, sticking his tongue out, a string of spit connecting them, panting like an animal.

_ Fuck, _ out of all the people who had done this for him, Claude had never felt so fucking  _ smitten. _ It wasn't fair. He came rather easily, almost embarrassingly so, painting Dimitri's tongue, cheeks, and chin with the heat of his release.

Claude fought to steady his own breathing, remain in control. "Good boy," he murmured, petting his hair once again. "Swallow it all. You don't want your treat to go to waste do you?"

It was clear it was a lot, as Dimitri struggled to swallow, struggled to catch everything, lick it off of his cheeks. "Yes," Claude whispered, stroking his hair fondly the whole time he struggled. "Remember that you are a beast. My commands are your entire life. You don't need to think of anything but obeying me." He reached down, curling his fingers in the collar and giving it a bit of a tug. "What do you call me?"

_ "Master," _ Dimitri whispered, nuzzling into his thighs, his belly. He didn't think, and it was bliss.

Claude moved his hand, both of them to Dimitri’s cheeks and coaxed him to look up as he said it, though he knew it was a mistake. The more he looked into that sweet, glazed eye, the more danger he put himself in. But he was already trapped. It was too late for more regrets.

"Perfect," he whispered, massaging Dimitri's no doubt aching jaw in lazy circles. "You've been so good for me. You deserve a reward."

He let go and moved a short distance away, as far away as the lead would allow, then dropped it, patting his thigh. "Heel." He indicated where Dimitri should crawl. Dimitri crept hesitantly toward him, expecting to be struck again, and curled up over his feet. His own erection was twitching now with each movement, unimaginably painful, but he did not seem to pay any mind.

Claude showed him there was no need for hesitation. He patted his cheek affectionately for obeying him, then moved to the other side of the room once more. "Heel." It was as if they were practicing for a show, training.

Now moving was getting more difficult, as Dimitri’s body ached for release. Tears even ran down his cheek as he hurried to follow every whim of Claude's instructions.

Did he want to be a beast? Did he want to be a pet? Suddenly Dimitri wasn't sure. His heart battled with him, unsure if what he really wanted was simply to be loved where he was.

Claude immediately dropped into a crouch, his voice soft instead of authoritative. "Hey, hey..." he breathed, wiping at Dimitri's tears. "Red? You want to stop? We can stop any time." Shit, his heart shouldn't break so much at the sight of him crying.

Now terror swept across Dimitri’s features as he begged him, "No, please. Don't." He wanted to hurt. That much, he knew. This was all so bewildering, but the pain had brought him clarity, at the very least.

Claude bit his lip. Everything in him wanted to break the scene, hold the man in his arms, and soothe him. Soothe his hurts. But that wasn't what Dimitri wanted and it wasn't what he paid for. Still, he was hesitant to step back into it just yet. not without saying, "Anything you want in particular? I feel I'm not doing you justice..."

His eye cast about, until he brought Claude's hands around the flog, curling them around the handle, steel wrapped in leather.

"...Treat me like the monster I am," he said, strangely lucid and firm.

Claude lifted the flog and just nodded once. His own feelings didn't factor into this, and they shouldn't, no matter how much those words felt weirdly binding. Like he couldn't breathe properly.

There were physical reasons that drew people to bondage; to the subspace, to the pleasure, to the pain. But there were emotional reasons too. And Claude didn't have the luxury of time to find out what drew Dimitri here.

When he vanished behind him again, the flog fell painfully sharp over Dimitri's back.

Dimitri clutched onto the chair Claude had left, leaving his back exposed, soon growing red and hot with raised welts. He hissed through each strike, snarled--but he did not lash out. He did not move away. All the while, Claude could see his body straining, shaking for release.

Claude's heart went right out of this. It was a good thing he could act to fool anybody, or Dimitri would notice something was up.

Once, a man had gone too far with Claude. Once, he'd needed stitches. He remembered that man well, had his name on file. And as much of a sadist as that guy was, he had wanted Claude to whip him. And oh, he  _ enjoyed  _ it. He enjoyed beating the shit out of him, getting revenge for all that he had done, even though it was revenge the man clearly wanted. And when the time came to expose him, Claude so enjoyed the snarling look on the man's face when he realized Claude had played him. Took him for nearly two million dollars.

This... this was not fun. If Dimitri were really into it, that would be one thing, but it seemed he was just using this as a self punishment.

At least it was easy to take pictures with his back turned.

Dimitri gasped, arching his back with each strike, feeling... fulfilled, validated.

_ Condemned.  _ As he should be.

His hand reached to grasp at himself as if it might offer relief, but he did not move to take the ring off. He hadn't earned it.

Claude just watched while he continued to strike. Well. As long as he was keeping Dimitri happy and distracted, that was all that really mattered, right? And he knew the correct pressure perfectly, to cause pain but not to break skin.

The flog stopped falling, and Dimitri suddenly felt the painful friction of Claude's shirt against his flayed back, the rough fibers digging into the welts as Claude's hand joined Dimitri's, wrapped around his cock and pumping faster.

"Slave to your instincts," he hissed in his ear. "Trying, trying, but can't find relief."

He laughed as he violently kicked away the chair and forced Dimitri down once again, shoving his head to the carpet as he himself crouched, reaching over and shoving two fingers into his body, chasing the device, and turning up the settings, opening him up even further.

Dimitri bellowed, making Claude grateful for the reinforced walls, as he screamed for release, pushing back against Claude's hand hungrily. He was being held apart, his body unable to contract, to relax at all with the prongs there to keep him open. The sounds he made were not human, gnashing his teeth, the muzzle now missed as he twisted his neck, eye gleaming at Claude.

Claude stamped harder with his boot, grateful he'd not brought heels (honestly, he hated them) or he'd have likely punctured Dimitri's remaining eye. "Don't even think about it, or you'll not have release at all."

Dimitri’s head was stamped into the floor hard, enough to make his brain ring. He whimpered, but something that could be pleasure worked its way across his features.

_ "Stay." _ A threat. Claude disappeared again and Dimitri felt his fingers, both gloved and not, working between his legs again. Tears came forward again as he felt his body spread to accommodate all that was inside him. But it still wasn't as much as Claude planned. Perhaps three fingers' worth.

Dimitri's jaw dropped open wide, and he stretched himself out, as if some positioning of his hips or sides might make this marginally more comfortable, but it was impossible, constant awareness.

That awareness was only interrupted by the sudden jolt of cold metal against his trembling thighs as Claude affixed the spreader bar to him. "So much trouble," he hissed, shaking his head before yanking Dimitri back to look at him, stretching his neck to its limit. "Perhaps you are more trouble to tame than you're worth." He let go of his hair and slapped the flog across his ass, watching him twitch and shake.

The spreader bar, in some ways, made it easier, able to stop straining Dimitri’s muscles to hold himself, and just let the metal hold him apart. He whimpered, curling his bare toes and bending his neck, backing his knees up as much as the bar would allow, trying to prove he would be good, that--perhaps--he  _ was _ worth it.

Claude was quick to reward him, maybe a little too eager. "Hm... you're going to be good, then?" he asked, stroking down his spine. Dimitri nodded, the hair falling in his face as he choked on his breaths, every muscle trembling. It was a miracle he could hold himself up.

Claude  _ did _ want to reward him. Such an antithesis from the way he usually felt towards clients. He wouldn't take off the ring, not yet, but he did lean down, massaging the ring of muscle that twitched against his touch.

Dimitri felt a groan slip, unbidden, from his throat as he felt something soft and wet delve curiously into him instead, tonguing the soft, abused tissue. It took him a full minute to realize what was happening, what Claude was doing for Dimitri. He scrabbled a little, grasping at the floor. Did--he truly want to do that? Was that normal? His front was one thing, but--His mind melted into pleasure, groaning, unable to stop Claude if he tried--and he did not.

It was soft and warm and so, so strange, but there was nothing painful about this. It was only pleasurable, even blissful, and he felt his body tremble and roll with the feeling, even as Claude hummed and pulled away for a moment. "You seem to enjoy that well enough, my pretty lion."

Dimitri’s head bobbed again, and he turned his chin to look to him one last time, that pleasing, needy look.

Claude was so, so thankful he had seen that head move and quickly stashed his phone away. That would have been very hard to explain. Still, he smiled and ducked his head to continue, wanting to continue taking Dimitri apart piece by piece before putting him back together again.

For all the suffering he was due to cause him, Dimitri deserved the pleasure first.

Ditmitri's mind was scattering just out of the reach of his fingers, thousands of butterflies refusing to be caught. The hum that screamed how horrible, how degenerate this was, drowned out by the drone that this was what he deserved, and that he was defiling Claude by making him do this.

Claude didn't seem to feel defiled. He honestly enjoyed this; after all, he enjoyed the feeling of it done to him so he couldn't imagine Dimitri not enjoying it.

Still, the goal was to drive him wild, and he nearly pushed Dimitri over the edge were the ring not in place before he finally pulled away, stalking off towards the metal table and slapping the surface. "Heel."

Dimitri moved to leap atop it with surprising speed, but little accuracy, near falling off one side. He was so enthusiastic he seemed to forget there was a metal device inside of him and he moaned, eye rolling back in his head with the sudden ache that was his entire body.

Claude couldn't help it; he burst out laughing, catching his arm. "Whoa, easy there! Don't be so eager that you hurt yourself." He leaned forward, whispering in his ear. "That's my job."

Dimitri absolutely had--but he didn't notice much, crawling atop the table. It was then he caught sight of the straps.

The flush drained from his face, and his mind went somewhere else entirely.

Claude saw this, of course. "Green?" he asked gently, touching the leather straps attached to the table.

Dimitri backed up, swallowing tight. The straps he remembered were not like this. They were medical, with cotton webbing, put on him by people who spoke softly, encouraging, a beast of a different kind. That was what he deserved, wasn't it? He nodded a bit, and offered his wrists.

Claude sensed his hesitation, but he couldn't imagine why, other than the loss of control. But he'd already worn a muzzle. Still, he supposed he'd not yet lost the use of his limbs. "You don't have to," he reminded him gently. "Remember, this is about what  _ you _ want."

_ "Do it!" _ Dimitri thundered.  _ Before I hurt you too. _

So demanding. Claude frowned, and Dimitri saw it, that subtle shift of attitude. He'd made Claude upset. Maybe this would make it easier for Claude to complete his task. It was easier if he hated him. It was easier for everyone if they hated him. Not even Felix seemed to accomplish that.

Claude didn't hate him though. It would certainly be easier, but he just didn't. "Fine," he responded, lofty, airy... detached. This scene hadn't felt good from the start anyway. No reason to stop now. He slammed his curled fist down on Dimitri's hand, flattening it so he could bind his wrists tightly before moving on to his ankles.  _ You don't have to like him. It's better this way.  _ Now the air in the room tasted sour.

_ All the better, _ Dimitri thought, to not have the illusion of love and care. That wasn't what he had earned. He was an animal, a sick beast, and needed to be punished. In the swing of back and forth, it seemed loathing had won out, as it often did.

Claude thought he might feel better about taking the pictures now, but if anything, he felt worse.

He considered stopping. He had what he needed, all the evidence he required. He didn't have to endure this. He could say he was hurt, exhausted, something.

But he...  _ wanted _ to finish this. He wanted it to be good.

Maybe he could try to fix it. He removed the last glove and tossed it away, pressing his fingertips into Dimitri's thighs and easing the tension caused by the bar. "Relax, beast."

Dimitri tried to obey, but Claude could see now he was wound up like a spring, and it didn't seem to be from the numerous toys used on him. His look pleaded with him something entirely different.  _ Help me. _

Claude wasn't the type to apologize and he was still a little pissed that Dimitri had shouted at him when trying to check to make sure his consent was still secured. But there was that odd feeling again. The need to please. He only ever felt it with Hilda. And with horrible men he fell for.

"You've been very good for me," Claude purred, and he reached around Dimitri's hip to touch his fingers to the ring. Maybe a release would help him. "Shall I take this off as a reward?"

Dimitri’s chest was spasming, and he clenched his fists. "Have--I been good enough?" he asked. He could see Claude was trying to smooth over their temporary spat and wanted to show that he, too, was apologetic. Obedient again.

"Very," Claude promised, even kissing his sweaty temple. Very carefully, he worked the ring off, twisting so it didn't hurt him. Once freed, Dimitri reeled with a sudden burst of pleasure and came dry just from the light touch of Claude's fingers. The shaking of his body felt like it didn't stop for a solid minute, and he continued to have aftershocks, rendered breathless from the effort, his lips blue, his eye rolled back.

Claude bit back a smile at the look of absolute paradise on his face. "Good," he murmured, stroking his chest a bit and waiting until he came back to continue. "Did that feel good, my pretty beast?"

Slowly, Dimitri seemed to come back to himself, gasping. "Yes," was all he could manage, and slowly, the feeling of the device inside him, the spreader bar, all of it, was just pain and he flinched, trying to fight it off.

Claude understood. He stroked his back, "There, there.... just sit tight." He wouldn't touch his cock for a bit, knowing it would likely be more sensitive than pleasurable.

He moved behind him. It seemed the third setting was as far as he'd go with the Pear of Anguish. He was gentle as he prodded inside him a bit, releasing the device's grip and pulling it free, slow and careful. Dimitri's pained muscle relaxed to merely sore for now. Dimitri, then freed of the device and the steel bar, curled up on himself, irresistibly vulnerable as he shook, still riding out the last waves of his body's pleasure. He could only curl forward, considering his wrists and ankles were still bound, but when he looked up, Claude was standing in front of him, smiling as he slowly unbuttoned his own shirt, showing off that sweet bronze flesh that Dimitri had fallen in love with the night before.

Dimitri had thought they had come to the end of the scene, though he hadn't exactly finished. So when he saw Claude undressing, his eye went wide, his jaw slack again.

Claude chuckled at his expression. "See something you like?" he teased as he dispensed with the rest of his clothing as well, leaving him in boots just up to the knee. Even without heels, it was... a sight to see.

Dimitri swallowed tight, blushing like a new bride, which made little sense considering their previous activities that very night. "Yes," he said hoarsely.

"You'll get to do more than look if you behave for me," Claude promised. He was eager to be fucked by him again, if he was being honest. He reached into the bag behind him, pulled out a water bottle, and took a long drink. Smiling, he crouched before the table and kissed him slowly, sharing the water between them. "Stay hydrated, my beast," he purred, pulling away. "You want some more?"

Dimitri nodded, caring little about where that tongue had been less than twenty minutes before, and kissed, drinking the warm water between them in long gulps. Dimitri's stamina was impressive, given how new he was. There was something intimate and sweet about this that he adored.

Claude fed him until the bottle was empty and then, as if they were standing on a bridge at sunset, he wrapped his arms around Dimitri's neck and kissed him properly, humming against his lips, his long dark lashes tickling his cheeks. It was so helplessly romantic that Dimitri utterly melted into his hands, so soft, suddenly far from the beast that had demanded to be hurt.

Far too soon, Claude pulled away. He shouldn't have indulged himself like that, but he had, and now it was too late.

He was in love, for like the fifth time, with his mark.

Claude winked at him, smirking, all cool and composed, but hiding that pain. This time next week, he'd have a full wallet and Dimitri would never want to see his face again. "You ready, then?"

He crawled underneath Dimitri, situating his back on the table and lifting his hips. A shudder ran through the captive beast as he felt their skin brush for the first time that night. It was ten times better than yesterday somehow. Claude's arms wound around his neck again, but Dimitri couldn't return the favor, bound as he was.

"You can have me now."

"H-how do I hold you?" Dimitri asked, tugging a little at the restraints, "I--I would not be a courteous lover this way..." It was such whiplash from the man who had screamed at him to bind him.

Claude could untie him right then and indulge himself. He could. But it would be really fucking  _ stupid.  _ He looked up at him. "Do you want me to unbind you?" he asked. "Remember, this is all up to you."

Dimitri tugged a little at the bindings, and Claude could see some of the joy leave his eye, only to be covered with a worried smile. "This is... safer for you."

Some men did this as a power trip, pretending they had to be bound in order to keep their partners safe as part of a fetish. This seemed so unflinchingly sincere he had to have meant it.

Well,  _ now _ Claude was curious. But he wouldn't push him. If he felt better with them on, he'd leave them on. He lifted his hips, brushing their thighs together to distract him. "Don't hold back," he whispered, sinking his teeth sharply into Dimitri's ear as he wrapped one lithe leg over his back. He'd prepared himself already, considering most men were too inconsiderate to do so.

Dimitri couldn't have helped even if he wanted to--and he would have, Claude got the feeling. Dimitri shifted his hips, but Claude would have to guide him in, without the use of his hands to help him.

"Aw, you poor thing," Claude cooed. But he'd expected that. He reached down and gave Dimitri a little squeeze, enjoying taunting him. "This your first studding?"

Dimitri moaned helplessly, his legs already twitching, bless him. "Y-yes..." He was going to go on with the scene, then.

Claude couldn't help but tease further. He was just so sincere, it was cute. "Oh? That man last night meant nothing, then?" he asked, guiding his hips further so that the sensitive tip of Dimitri's cock pressed into him, squeezing so tight.

Dimitri shuddered all over, and bowed his head to kiss that beautiful dark chest, the smooth skin there. He couldn’t even process an answer.

Claude kissed Dimitri's head in turn. "It's okay," he breathed, trying not to shudder himself from the stretch he knew was coming. "I've already prepped. You won't hurt me." He let go of him.

That was a relief--Dimitri wouldn't know how to prepare him in the first place. So he snapped his hips forward to push past the threshold, push further into him with a grunt.

Claude's head fell back against the table and a soundless moan escaped him as he felt that size inside him again at this angle. He clearly hadn't prepared himself enough, but that pain was just a glorious edge to the thrill. "Y-yes..." he gasped, tightening his grip on him, tightening his body to squeeze him.

Dimitri felt the air twisted from his lungs like a vice, and pushed in all at once, to the hilt. No experienced man would do this to their lover, but Dimitri wasn't experienced, he was impatient, in  _ need. _

Claude fortunately  _ was _ experienced. Still, he cried out, arching his chest to meet Dimitri's, eyes blown wide as sweat began to bead on his forehead, his braid falling over his ear. "Yes... that's it," he breathed, encouraging. "Beasts don’t ask permission, they  _ take  _ what they want."

Dimitri, without anything else to grab on with, bit onto Claude's braid and gave it a tug. His body settled into a rhythm of thrusts, pounding against him, hardly even taking a breath. This was so strangely natural, bound and beaten and  _ fucking _ him.

Claude let his thoughts fade into the background. He wasn't just putting up with this now, not just enduring it for the sake of money. He was enjoying it. And for the millionth time, he knew he shouldn't. He should punish himself somehow. He supposed he and Dimitri had that in common. Except he doubted with everything he had that Dimitri had actually done anything to deserve it.

He groaned and pressed his hips against every errant thrust, allowing the bruises to form without mercy.

Dimitri's teeth yanked back at his braid, jerking his head, pulling his scalp. His hands gripped at the edges of the table, pulling in vain at the restraints, oblivious to how much he was bruising his partner, nor how much he seemed to enjoy that.

Finally, his stamina won out and he groaned, sinking down to his belly.

Now pressed against the table, Claude whined, well aware that Dimitri was chasing his own bliss. That was fine. He was enjoying it, after all. "You okay?" he asked, his hand stuttered through Dimitri's damp hair. He squeezed his body to remind him of the pleasure.

Dimitri moaned, whimpering softly. "I can't--help you, my hands..."

It seemed he wanted to be a gentleman and finish Claude off, feeling him between their bodies. He tugged his wrists again, like a dog rattling a cage.

Claude struggled to unbind him from this angle. He couldn't really believe that Dimitri was thinking about him when he hadn't even finished yet. Knight in shining armor sort of mentality, it seemed. But at least Dimitri could sit up now, if he wanted.

Dimitri shifted his weight, flexing his hands, turning his wrists a moment before he besieged Claude's cock, enveloping him in his hands without mercy. He wasn't going to let him go until he released. Perhaps that would help him.

Claude hissed. "A-ah! Be  _ careful," _ he begged, twisting his hips a bit as Dimitri attacked him. Still, the animalistic urges to buck into his hands were heaven to give into. He kept holding on to Dimitri's shoulders, dragging himself up to his lap instead, still feeling him buried and losing all but the best of his breaths.

Dimitri, sitting up with Claude across his lap, gave a few little thrusts upward, using gravity to his advantage. All at once, before he could even think to warn him, Claude was shot full of warmth that seemed to fill all the way to his ribs.

"Ah-aaaugh, I'm-- I'm sorry..."

Claude didn't really require a warning, but his head snapped back and he gasped, shuddering as the heat pooled in his gut, seeming to spread through his body completely. Strange. Whenever someone he hated did this, it felt utterly disgusting. "It's okay," he murmured, closing his eyes. He'd thought that would tip him over the edge, but in the end, it was actually Dimitri giving him a squeeze that did so, and Claude spent over his fist, huddling in the shadow of his lap as he breathed through it, twitching a bit in Dimitri's grip.

_ "Fuck..." _

"Are--are you okay?" Dimitri asked through his panting, practically wheezing into Claude's hair. At least he'd dropped the braid from his teeth.

Claude didn't answer right away. Dammit, that was  _ his _ line.

After a moment, he reached back and smacked Dimitri hard with all his might. Before Dimitri recovered, Claude had pried their bodies apart and stood on the table in just his boots and seized the collar, pressing the toe of his shoe against Dimitri's wet cock.

"How  _ dare _ you?" he hissed, glaring. "How  _ dare _ you come without _ my _ permission?"

Standing on the table that way, Dimitri quailed before him, hand mark bright red across his face. "I-- I--" He had thought the scene was over, but tumbled back into it again, easy as breathing. His wrists slipped back in the restraints, his head ducked. "F-forgive me, master..."

"Look at you," Claude sneered, hands at his hips, all authority again. "Pathetic. There's only ever one thing on an animal's mind, isn't there?"

As he pressed harder, Dimitri felt the blood rushing to his arousal once again. He'd been blocked by the ring for so long that he wasn't quite sated yet. And Claude had ripped back control, ripped away his autonomy again. "Shameful. You exist to breed, nothing more. You are an animal, a beast with the lowest instincts. Perhaps even less--you crawl about the earth on your belly like a  _ worm." _

Dimitri sank down as he was told, pressing against the table as much as his body allowed while still being stepped on.

"And you even like being reminded," Claude mused. He removed his boot and took back to the floor. One last picture while Dimitri was distracted... no, he'd wait until the visuals were complete. "How sad it must be, to be constricted by the clothing of men. You are a wild beast. Act like it."

He picked up the flog from the bed and smacked Dimitri's ass. "Go on. I'm not even going to bind your hands. Touch yourself like the animal you are."

Dimitri touched himself hesitantly at first, before beginning with earnest, helplessly turned on by the scathing resentment in Claude's voice, by his perceived hatred and disgust. He felt Claude press him down again as the spreader bar kept his legs open. Even his own hands felt like relief after being held back for so long. And... knowing he was being watched, that Claude was staring at him and judging him... it felt ten times more thrilling. As he squeezed and jerked himself off, he felt his master press open his cheeks again and moaned, thinking how good it would feel to bring himself off to the feeling of Claude's fingers or tongue.

It was neither that entered him. A cry of agony escaped Dimitri's throat and his entire body clenched in pain around the intrusion, thicker even than Claude's cock, and too hard.

"Relax," Claude commanded, pressing the handle of the whip inside another centimeter more. "Or it'll hurt even more."

Trying to relax with something like that being pressed into the body was near impossible, but he did his best, trying to shudder past his pain. "Yes, yes, master. I'll be good."

Claude was impressed he could even speak. He smirked, pulling the whip out again to apply a bit more lubricant. "You thought you got off so easily, didn't you? Keep working," he commanded, reaching forward to smack Dimitri's hands. "Let me see your  _ depravity." _

Dimitri gave a sob, but it didn't seem to be one born of sorrow. He was overwhelmed, overstimulated. He shook all over, his eye rolling back as he utterly worked himself over, probably tearing into his own skin in his frantic motions.

Claude had undergone similar (but thrice as brutal) treatment before. He knew it hurt, but it would be worth the payoff, so he smiled, shoving the wet whip handle in and out, only pressing in about two or three inches each thrust. It was still Dimitri's first time. He wasn't that cruel.

And it  _ did _ hurt. But somehow, that just played Dimitri's nerves like fire, like the end of hot wires, and his hands jerked and twisted, the heat contrasted by the cool feeling of the steel table surface he pressed his cheek on as he sweat, no longer aware of the noises he was making as Claude increased the speed. Dimitri felt utterly out of his own consciousness as he saw stars, his head a brew of pleasure and pain, boiling over. He made every sound out there, from grunts to helpless whimpers and cries. Once more he became engorged, and once more he was spent, and would keep going, and going, like a steam engine, gaining momentum.

Claude would know when he couldn't come anymore, and he planned to exhaust him until that point came. He fucked him harder and harder, hissing both insults and praise that he knew Dimitri could no longer process, until Dimitri screamed again, and his lap was just a mess of white.

Only then did he take the last picture and let the whip clatter to the ground. As Dimitri lay there, panting, utterly used up, Claude was swift to unbind him, massage his raw ankles. 

Dimitri hadn't expected this, hadn't expected Claude to care for him afterwards. His heart swelled, still stampeding wildly, in his chest as Claude cooed. "There, there... what hurts the most?" he whispered, and the scene was as used up as Dimitri was. Now it was just the two of them. No toys, no tools, just Claude's patient hands, rubbing and petting.

This, this was strangely what Dimitri hadn't expected. Had even _ feared. _ He was being treated so gently, after being treated like the monster he was. Like it was okay to be himself, what he was. He shivered on the table, utterly dim as Claude seemed to drift and sway around him, helping him wash, checking him for injuries beyond bruises, anything that was bloody.

At every opportunity, he wanted to nuzzle into Claude's hand, and once he was mostly clean, he finally told Claude what he needed, without words. He pressed against him, head ducked to listen to Claude's heart, just desperate for the skin to skin contact.

Claude kept his face carefully blank beyond a little smile. "Here. Let's go lie on the bed, okay?" He wrapped his arms under Dimitri's, helping him to the clean sheets. This was why he never used the bed, so it could be used afterwards. He even helped him onto it, Dimitri's legs shaking so badly. Then he tucked him in, and tucked Dimitri's head against his chest, tangled together.

"I should have asked what you expected from aftercare before we started," he whispered into Dimitri's hair. "That's on me. Sorry."

Dimitri didn't even think this was possible. He thought that here in this place, it would be torment, a fuck, and then... he’d be left. Not taken care of. He trembled against Claude as if what he was doing now was more taboo, more salacious than the acts that proceeded it. It was strange to see a man his size huddle, but there was no other word for it, as he leant into Claude's chest, listening to his jackrabbit heart.

Finally, when he spoke, it was a bit halting. "Aftercare?"

Claude blinked.  _ "Goddess, _ did Sylvain not tell you anything before he shoved you in here? I feel like a villain," he laughed quietly. A villain indeed. "You know, like.... when people engage in scenes like this, aftercare is extremely important. People like to be torn up sometimes, but then they want to be put back together, you know?" He caressed Dimitri's hair, carding his dark fingers through it. "Some people like different things. I knew a girl who just wanted a peanut butter sandwich and a nap after scenes. You'll have to figure out what you like. But it's my job to do the aftercare as well. I have more water, if you need."

Dimitri nodded, and actually allowed him to water him. "Do... Do people feel better? After? When they're like this?" He lay one big hand under his cheek, shutting his eye. From this angle, Claude could get a good look at him when he wasn't squirming and writhing. The scars he bore were from burns, twisted and mangled.

Claude fed him the water normally this time, not tonguing it into his mouth. "Usually. Why, do you feel  _ worse?" _ he asked, suddenly nervous.

He shook his head enough he gave himself a headache, and settled, squeezing him impressively tight in an embrace. It was terribly saccharine, after such filthy work, to just want to be cared for. Like a human, like a person worth protecting.

Claude settled in, stroking his back. He glanced at the clock. 12:03. They still had four hours if Dimitri wanted to nap here. Regardless, Claude knew he had to set up the trap still. Invite him out. Make him want more.

Still, he waited. Part of him hoped Dimitri would just... fall asleep and then Claude wouldn't have to do it, could put it off for four hours.

It took a while to fell the beast. Any time that Claude thought Dimitri was already asleep, he would shift, and then lift his head wearily. Finally though, after an hour of coaxing, Dimitri was utterly dead to the world. Claude could do whatever he wanted.

Claude had all the pictures he  _ needed. _ But he  _ wanted _ one like this, Dimitri's gentle expression as he slept, so tired, so weary. But Claude's pants were off and his phone was in his pocket. He'd just have to store it in his memory.

He tried to sleep too. But there was no way it would claim him over the perfect sense of shame he carried. He'd just... hold him for four hours then.

Dimitri’s breathing was easy, gentle. It was obvious this was a man who did not often get to sleep, much less sleep well, and there was even the edge of a contented smile at the edge of his mouth, his cheeks still a bit rosy in the shape of a hand.

For four hours, Claude convinced himself not to do it. That he couldn't lay this trap. That he'd just have to find someone else. Four hours he watched him sleep, somehow never growing tired or bored of that expression, that tiny smile. Four hours he swore he'd try other underhanded tactics, to revive old contacts, rebuild burned bridges.

Four hours, Claude allowed himself to feel like a good guy. Just those four. That he could change. Earn an honest living somehow.

Then there was a gentle warning chime on Claude's phone, though it wasn't enough to stir Dimitri at first. Finally it seemed to reach his dreams, and he raised his head like an exhausted animal, squinting at the low light, not letting go of Claude's waist.

Claude blinked, but he had made his peace. He felt a million times better, even though he knew he'd be in trouble later. He would set Dimitri free. He wouldn't hurt him. He couldn't. "Hey, bedhead," he teased, patting his cheek. "You going to be okay to get home? I'm sure Sylvain waited for you."

"Oh... I think so. Will-- _ you _ be safe? Do you have a way home?" Most marks didn't really care how he got home, much less safely. Dimitri was reluctant to leave the circle of his arms, rubbing at his eye as he replaced the eye patch.

Claude smiled. "Subways run at all hours. And I have pepper spray. Don't worry about me." He sat up, helping Dimitri tie the eyepatch. "Aw, you handsome thing. I hope you had fun."  _ I won't hurt you again. _

"I want--" Dimitri said, taking his small hands in his bigger ones, pulling them to his scarred breast. "I want to see you again. See  _ you. _ Is that... so strange? I understand if--if it isn't appropriate."

Claude gave him the tiniest smile. "You can always visit me here." After all, if he didn't go after Dimitri as a mark, he could still enjoy his employment. "I've enjoyed time with you so far."

"No, I mean..." Dimitri ran his thumb across his knuckles. "Not-- _ here." _

Claude froze. No.  _ No. _ This was  _ not _ fair. He'd spent all that time convincing himself he'd be good, just this once, for someone who deserved his kindness, and now the universe was setting the trap for him. Was it impossible to try? Was it impossible for him to be kind?

"Oh." He fidgeted a bit. "You... you mean you want to see me somewhere else," he finished dumbly. "I... I could make house calls for you, if you want." He tried. He tried so hard not to let the bait fall.

"No, no, I'd... like to take you to coffee, or--or tea, to--to treat you." He looked down at their knees, overlapped over one another, his hands still captured.

Claude had taken away the bait and the fish had come anyway. How cruel.

"Sure," he said, a bit too falsely bright. "Yeah, that would be fine." Wasn't there anything he could do to make Dimitri lose interest without hurting him? Without telling him he wasn't interested? "But... I don't think you'll like me as much during the day."

Dimitri turned his hands a little, touching the pads of his thumbs. "I can tell you're a writer. And a reader."

Did--did he  _ know?  _ Impossible. Did he know what he was getting into? How?

"You've got a callous on this finger," he said, pointing to it, "And papercuts all over."

Claude's heart drummed wildly on his lungs, making it hard to breathe. "Oh... w-well, yeah. I do read an awful lot," he admitted. That was the truth. "But you can't tell anything about a man from just that," he tried, almost begging. Why did Dimitri have to be so  _ stupid _ at some points and so  _ observant _ at others?

"I'd like to learn," he said, so  _ stupidly _ earnest, so  _ stupidly  _ sincere. He turned that dangerous blue eye up to him, like a little pocket of a blue sky that hadn't grown clouds yet. Then, he brought Claude's hands to his lips, kissed him lightly.

Then Claude realized.  _ This. _ This was his  _ punishment. _ After the four men Claude had fallen in love with before, none of them could hold a candle to Dimitri's kindness, his gentleness, despite his growling and clawing hours ago. The gods of fate were telling him  _ you can't have this. You don’t  _ **_deserve_ ** _ this. _

That made sense too. His shoulders eased and his eyes lost their panic. Of course. That made sense. He couldn't have the one thing he wanted. Punishment, for all his sins.

"Sure," he said finally, quiet. "We can meet. How about Saturday?" Three days from now. He could recover from love in three days, right? "I know a nice cafe in the Fountain Square."

"I-it's a date!" Dimitri lit up, like a cheery seasonal decoration, and kissed his knuckles again. "I... can't wait to meet you," he told him. "Truly meet you."

Getting dressed was a bit tricky as he was still a bit wobbly, though he gained his footing as he put on his shoes.

"Oh, ah... my shirt..." He looked down at the ruined thing, buttons rained everywhere.

"I'm sorry about that," Claude winced. He had been aiming for controlling, and he’d torn people’s clothing before but this shirt did seem… expensive. Not the sort of thing one should wear to a club. He'd offer to mend it, but he truly had no idea how. He reached into the black bag and handed Dimitri some sweatpants and a tee that belonged to All the King's Men. "Tell Sylvain he can take the cost of the shirt off my bill." He seemed a bit soulless all of the sudden.

Dimitri gathered it back up, folding it as neat as he could. The buttons were collected, scooped carefully in the breast pocket. "I can have my tailor mend it.”

He pulled the shirt on over his head, getting a bit caught in the neckhole. 

The size must have been in Sylvain's or Claude's size, as it was decidedly too small for Dimitri's frame, hugging onto every muscle, showing a little strip of skin over his trousers. 

The sweatpants came up to his shins. "...I'll-- I'll just wear my trousers, they're fine."

Claude smiled a bit weakly. "They're wet, you beast," he teased, shaking his head. "Here." He had put them in a plastic bag. "All you need is to get to the car, right?"

Dimitri turned pink up to his ears. "I... thank you..."

The shirt creaked as he reached over to collect the bag. Despite Sylvain's dedication to  _ discretion  _ and  _ dignity  _ and  _ privacy... _ He was also a complete slut for branding, and so even the sleek, thick black plastic bag had the logo on it, a knight riding a griffin, very classy and regal. Save for the enormous codpiece if you looked too close. (Sylvain claimed historical accuracy.)

Claude allowed himself the privilege of one last look of this man, all muscles, practically bursting out of the shirt and smile, leaning forward, kissing his cheek.

"You look great. See you Saturday."

  
  
  
  
  
  


Dimitri hardly remembered Sylvain collecting him, helping him to the car, fussing over him. He hardly remembered returning to their house about an hour later, with Felix snapping with exasperation at them both, having returned from work to an empty house, nor did he remember being put right to bed. All he remembered, with each ache a reminder, was Claude.

He was sure he loved him.

For the next two days, he recuperated, staying in their guest bed with his phone, hobbling to take at least four baths with Felix pushing epsom salt on him to ease his muscles. It hurt everywhere and it was so incredibly worth it. Felix’s scoldings were worth it. Sylvain’s teasing was worth it. All that hurt now was the  _ waiting  _ to see Claude again. Not the promise of sex. Just… seeing him again.

Not that he thought Felix would approve. “I have a meeting tomorrow afternoon,” he told them on the second day, still a dreamy look in his eye. Finally. It was finally here.

Felix's eyes shot to Sylvain in a withering glare, and Sylvain quailed immediately. "I-I didn't know he had a meeting," he mumbled nervously.

Felix sighed and rubbed his temples. "Then maybe you should get to bed now. You can stay here.” As if he hadn’t been staying here for the past week. “Come on, I'll help you upstairs."

In truth, Dimitri was still wobbling quite a bit, which made sense. His body still felt like one giant ache, but he couldn't regret it at all. It had been... Wonderful.

Dimitri let Felix guide him to bed, even while bitching about it, climbing under the covers, his fine shoes set aside. Felix could see the bruises and welts Claude had left, but also saw, for the first time in a long time, a peaceful smile on Dimitri's face, relaxed, as if the tension had literally been beaten out of him.

Felix huffed a bit. "A good thing he didn't get your face much," he grumbled. All the bruises and welts could be hidden, but there was still a thin little scratch on his cheek from the whip. "I'll have your suit pressed before noon, but honestly, you should  _ stop wearing it to the club." _ He paused and then a rare look crossed his face. Not a smile, but... Close. "I'm glad you found something to relax you," he said quietly before turning off the lights.

"Thank you, Fe," he said, so soft, near muffled in the pillow. The bad half of his face was hidden, and the smile made him seem almost--whole again, more centered than they had seen him since his childhood.

Felix fussed over him a bit longer, a sure sign of affection from him, before he turned off the light and closed the door. He had a feeling that they wouldn't be woken by his snarls and cries tonight, as peaceful as the last two nights had been. Dimitri rested in peace.

  
  
  


The morning light woke him, as did many, many twinges of pain in places Dimitri didn't know he had. Even his cock felt sore, probably because of the ring. After three days, he thought it would have stopped, but oh well. His mood was, in contrast, achingly  _ giddy. _

He had slept through the night for the third time in a row. He helped Felix as much as he was allowed to around the house, borrowing one of Sylvain's pressed shirts to wear, and one of his ties.

"Why are your ties so long?" he wondered aloud to Sylvain, tying one neatly around his neck.

Sylvain just looked at Felix and said, "Fashion," very casually, as if there was definitely another reason. Felix fussed over Dimitri's messy knot, and helped pull his hair back away from his face.

"It makes you look less tired." He slammed a bottle of ibuprofen in front of him. "Take the prescription dose. You'll need it to get through the day."

Felix was certainly right. His thighs and lower back ached the most, as if he'd been lifting something heavy all night. How it felt like that  _ still,  _ Dimitri had no idea. He’d done nothing but sleep for three days! He took the painkillers, and the other host of pills he took in the morning, drinking his coffee down while Felix messed up his hair. 

For the first time, he asked Sylvain: "Do... I look alright?" He usually didn't seem to care, so long as he was neat and tidy, in dark clothing.

Sylvain suddenly lit up, happy he asked. Dimitri used to be so unfeeling in the morning. Dismal. Apathetic. He shot an ‘I told you so’ look at Felix, and nodded. "Mitya, you look  _ great." _

And they both kissed him on opposite cheeks at once.

Dimitri flushed warm under their attentions, shooing them a bit. "Alright, I best be off. I'll head back home tonight. Thank you for letting me stay." He looked handsome indeed, in his sharp overcoat and sleek tailoring, softened by the furry stole around his neck.

Sylvain and Felix both adored him and Dimitri knew it but sometimes it wasn't enough. Sometimes the nightmares came anyway, and he knew that he could wake them up in the middle of the night, show up at their door at 4am and they would take him in and fuss over him.

But having someone who maybe, just maybe might be there with him? He could not help but feel his heart flutter as he stepped into the wonderful sunshine.

It was warm, and so, Dimitri stopped by a shop to buy a big bundle of sunflowers. It was  _ certainly _ not conspicuous. But he didn't care; he wanted to give Claude something beautiful. He waited in the town square, seated awkwardly on a bench with the flowers on his lap.

People normally avoided a man like Dimitri; big, hulking, an eyepatch, and usually a brooding mood. But perhaps the flowers softened him. People smiled as they passed him. It was obvious he was waiting for someone special.

At around 11:55, he suddenly caught sight of him.

Soft, dark jeans right at his waist, immaculate heeled boots, and a billowing, cotton shirt that tucked in just above the waist, with the sleeves a pleasant puff of yellow color. The laces were half undone so a generous amount of his copper chest was revealed. His nails were lacquered with a hint of gold. He wore a sash of saffron and blue tied at one hip, and a matching one in his hair. One beautiful golden earring glinted just beside his cheek.

He was looking around for Dimitri, a manila folder in hand. Sort of a weird thing to bring to a date, but okay.

Claude looked like a slip of sunshine and Dimitri was incredibly tempted to just... pounce on him. But instead, he stood respectfully, coming to him with the flowers and a hopeful, shy smile. "Claude," he said, "Thank you for coming." Even though he had arranged the meeting.

Claude looked down at the sunflowers, and his face utterly fell. Dimitri had no idea why. Did he hate sunflowers?

"Of course. Said I'd be here, didn't I?"

He looked totally different like this. It seemed intentional, this more masculine appearance, still quite fashionable, far more so than Dimitri ever could be. Sylvain would be proud. He had neglected to shave and Dimitri could see the attractive hint of facial hair growing in under his jaw. Under his shirt, he didn't wax his chest, so he could see dark curls there too, not visible in the Dungeon's lights. His chest had been smooth both times--men in the club typically preferred twinks.

But somehow... This made him only more attractive to Dimitri. He was beautiful at night. And by day? Handsome as they come. He passed him the flowers, his smile so gentle. "Yes, I just... was hopeful." His smile faded too, worried. "... You seem upset."

"I am, Matthew," he said quietly and intentionally. Dimitri saw him grip the folder more tightly. "Soon you'll see why." He gestured at a small cafe across the square with very private looking booths. "I'd... Keep the sunflowers for yourself. You may want to return them."

He sounded so different. So upset. So grim.

"They're for you, regardless of what decisions you make," Dimitri said quietly, but followed him to the cafe, getting a seat away from prying eyes. Two waters for them both, though he asked Claude politely if he wanted anything. Was Claude already regretting coming to see him?

Claude shook his head. He'd not ruin this further by forcing Dimitri to buy him lunch. He took the flowers solemnly and gave a sad little smile. "They're my favorite... How did you know?"

Dimitri gave a sweet, hopeful smile, not like Claude’s at all. "I just... thought they looked like you." He tucked his hands under the table, where he could wring them without being seen.

Claude gave them a sniff and set them aside. He didn't want to do this. He didn't want to at all. He could stall. He  _ shouldn’t. _ “You shouldn’t have come here.”

Dimitri looked up, hurt. “Why? Did you… only agree because you felt sorry for me?” he asked helplessly.  _ That would make sense,  _ he thought, looking down at his clean but scarred hands.

“No.” More than anything, that wasn’t true, wasn’t why he’d wanted to see him, not once. He sighed. "Suppose it's time," he said quietly. "My full name is Claude von Reigan," he went on, looking up to gauge his reaction.

Oh.  _ Oh. _ Claude von Reigan. The infamous journalist and whistleblower. The man who destroyed companies with his biting exposés. Who brought whole billion dollar corporations to their knees with a single front page piece. Everyone knew him and the rich feared him.

Dimitri’s eye grew enormous, his lips parted. There was a reason Claude von Reigan never had photos printed next to his articles. This was exactly what Felix had warned him of.

Well, he’d been right that Claude was a reader and a writer.

Dimitri began to breathe a little tightly, swallowing thick. He had made a mistake. He had been such a fool, such... such a fucking  _ idiot. _ A fucking idiot and now the Blaiddyd Foundation was going to suffer.

Claude could see Dimitri panicking. It was too late to back down now, even though his heart was ripping beneath those attractive curls. He slipped the folder over the table silently. Dimitri only had to lift a corner to see they were pictures of him. Pictures of him from three nights ago. Of him flushed and aroused and bound and  _ muzzled. _

Dimitri snapped it shut and buried his face in his hands, utterly ashamed, mortified of himself.

"How much do you want?" he whispered. He couldn’t look at him.

Claude swallowed. Why was he hesitating now? He'd done this countless times. But no man or woman had ever treated him like a person. No man or woman had ever brought him flowers. No man or woman ever wanted to treat him to lunch--at least not without the expectation of payment in kind.

"Thirty grand," he said quietly, pushing the folder forward for Dimitri to keep. "I have digital copies, right on the press, so I wouldn't even think of going to Sylvain with this," he threatened, green eyes hard.

"What's it for? Is that all?" Dimitri murmured blankly, his face still covered in his hand.

Claude swallowed again but the lump would not go down. "For now." He paused. He truly should leave it at that, but... "I'm sure you think I'm despicable. That's fine. I deserve nothing less. But I... The money isn't for me." He doubted Dimitri would believe him. That was fine too. At least he had told him the truth once.

"What's. It.  _ For." _ Dimitri ground out each word.

Claude's expression hardened. He wasn't about to put little Afina in danger. "I don't think you really have the position of power right now, do you?" he snapped back.

Dimitri flinched back, finally drawing his hands away from his face. His sole eye was pink, swollen, and damp. He quietly reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a leather checkbook, opening it. With no emotion whatsoever, he said, "Who do I make it out to?"

"My name will be fine," Claude replied flatly. The waiter had returned but Claude shooed him away.

He wrote it out. Mr. Claude von Reigan. Thirty thousand dollars and no cents. Then, a quick, loopy signature. Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd.

The paper was slid across to him, and Dimitri took the manila envelope. Any mirth, or even anger, had left his face, all dead and ashen.

Claude took the check without emotion too or he’d break right here in public. He stood up, knowing his welcome was worn out, that he'd never see this man again, except in his dreams when he wished he could go back and change the way he'd wronged him.

He looked down at Dimitri, remembered how sweetly he had pressed his muzzled cheek against his hand. How sweetly he’d slept wrapped in his arms. He held out the bouquet of sunflowers. "Do you... Want these back?"

"No," Dimitri said softly, not looking at him. "They're for you. I still want to give you sunshine." He didn't look up, stared ahead, a part of him clearly shattered. It didn’t make sense. Would the universe  _ really  _ punish Claude further by having Dimitri be so graceful in defeat?

He swallowed a third time, but the lump remained, grew bigger somehow.

He walked away.

Normally, he felt so triumphant in moments like these. Normally he threw it in their face, reminding them of every scar they'd given him, every time they'd treated him badly, tacking on extra payment for it. He enjoyed the crumpled expression when they realized he had utterly ruined him.

Not this time.

He made the call, and all the while he cashed the check, he stared at the sunflowers in his hand.

He felt he was the utter trash so many people called him.

  
  
  
  
  


Dimitri was at the shop for an hour without eating or drinking. Finally, when a manager began hovering, he left, leaving an enormous cash tip. He went automatically back to Sylvain and Felix’s empty home, despite the promise he’d go back to his own, let himself in with the spare key. His phone was turned off, dropped into the sink. With shaking hands, he opened the manila folder and saw himself, saw him as... the disgusting degenerate so many people feared he would be. 

_ I have nothing against gay people, _ Cornelia said at the last luncheon,  _ I support them! I just don't want it shoved down my throat, you know? Pride is so garish, half the men are naked. It's all about sex, sex, sex. I'm just saying, there's something to it that it isn't focused on love... _

Dimitri thought that what he held in his hands was evidence of that love, of Claude's care for him. But it was a lie. It was always a lie. He was  _ used. _

Stripping down, he ran his hands over the bruises, stepped into his glass shower. The multiple shower heads turned on, stinging and sharp. He turned up the heat as far as the knob would go. As the water became scalding, his old burn marks rose to the surface, red and angry, screaming in pain. His skin cracked and peeled, and at his feet, the papers turned to pulp, the photographs to mush.

He had to be clean, had to boil himself.

  
  


For the first time in a long time, he wished he'd burned with his parents and friends.


	3. Trial By Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He settled back on the pillow, deaf to the other sounds, as he fiddled with the last lighter intact in his hands.
> 
> All the king’s horses and all the king's men couldn't put Dimitri together again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: Suicide attempt, brief visit to a psychiatric hospital, a little violence

Hilda was bouncing Afina on her hip when she came into the dining room. "Claude?" she asked gently. He was still sitting by the window, staring at his phone. In the space of an hour, he had composed fifteen long messages... And sent none of them. Of course, he knew Dimitri's phone number. He'd be a fool not to find that out first when blackmailing someone.

"Hm?" He didn't look at her.

"You just seem so upset," she said gently, coming up behind him. "Want to hold her?"

He sighed, setting his phone aside. "Sure." He tried to smile for the little girl. He supposed he should be thankful, at least, that the damned desert dogs hadn't taken her.

"Khalid is sad," she announced, annoyed on his lap.

He scowled, exaggerated enough to make her laugh and then snarled, his teeth close to her ear. “I’m not sad. I’m **_hungry!”_ **He snapped at her, miming eating her as she squealed and twisted in his grip.

“Hate to break up the party,” Hilda said suddenly, holding up Claude’s phone with a grim look on her normally sunny face. “But I think it’s the dogs.”

All of Claude’s joy seeped out through his chin, the light first leaving his eyes, scrunching his nose and curling his lip. Afina pouted as she was set on the floor, set aside. Claude grabbed the phone, worried. They weren’t supposed to call him yet. Not yet.

“What?” he snapped into the receiver as Hilda picked up the little girl.

“Come on, wanna play on my phone?” she offered, smiling.

“Why is Khalid mad?” Afina demanded. Hilda didn’t have a ready answer for that. She was worried too, especially when Claude’s voice picked up, no doubt deafening their neighbors through the paper-thin walls.

 _“You can’t do that!_ We had a _deal!”_

The voice that came through was Almyran, crackling over the long distance and quite smug. “Well, you were just so quick to come up with the money this time… we figured you must be living in the lap of luxury.”

Claude could have choked on his response, temporarily forgetting that he was not to be speaking Fódlan to this man. “I share a bed with my damned roommate and Afina!” he hissed back with the fluency of his homeland. “You can’t do this, I already paid you! Those people are _not_ your property!”

  
“Well.” The man sounded all the more smug that Claude had lost his temper, something he didn’t often do. But then, he’d never not foreseen a doublecross like this. “I suppose they’ll just have to hang out here with me until you find more cash then, huh?”

Claude almost smashed his phone on the wall. The finality of the click that signaled the end of the call was as good as a death sentence if he didn’t do something.

Now he had a damned good reason to send a text to Dimitri.

  
  
  
  


Dimitri just remained in the shower and tried to boil away the memory of Claude’s hands on him, at times so sharp, at times so soft.

It was like that for only twenty minutes when Sylvain came home and started knocking, then banging on the door, demanding he come out, screaming that he was worried. The doorknob jiggled furiously, and when it stopped and was silent, Dimitri knew Sylvain was calling Felix, who would just break the door down.

He finally turned off the shower. The piles of colorless muck at his feet were disposed of, and he wrapped himself in a towel, coming to the door. "Sylvain? Sorry, I couldn't hear you over the shower." He tried to keep his voice upbeat sounding.

Sylvain and Felix were now both outside the door. Sylvain gasped as he stepped forward, hesitant to touch his burning skin. "D-Dimitri... What did you do?"

"The fire alarm went off," Felix said, eyeing him suspiciously. "Why are you bleeding?" he snapped.

"I wanted a hot shower," Dimitri said, stepping back. "I'm... bleeding?" He hadn't noticed.

Sylvain, panicking, gestured to some of the cuts Claude had left on his back which had peeled and opened in the shower. His lips too. Sylvain was crying, holding his mouth and it was clear... He thought Dimitri was trying to drown himself.

Felix's sharp eyes missed nothing. He saw the remnants of something... Paper...? Go down the drain. He frowned. "Did the meeting go badly?"

Dimitri was trying to comfort Sylvain by holding him, but the damage was obvious, his skin torn to ribbons. "We lost a grant," he said quietly, "Thirty thousand. It was... kid's meals. I paid it out of pocket." The guilt of having lost it was clearly eating him alive, or at least, that's what Dimitri had hoped it looked like.

Sylvain rushed to hug him, sobbing a little bit. For someone who acted so big, Sylvain was so gentle. Felix frowned, scowling. "Who the fuck takes money from children?" he snapped, but he dropped the subject. Dimitri had never had to lie to them, who cared about him so much.

"Stay with us tonight," Sylvain begged and Felix nodded, seeing how distraught Dimitri was.

"I couldn't possibly impose, after staying here so long..." Dimitri said, drawing away slowly, withdrawing.

Sylvain whined but Felix's eyes flashed. "We _insist."_

Dimitri tried to raise his hackles, but it just took so much energy. "I'm fine. Honestly. I just want to lie down. You're worrying over nothing."

"You can lie down _here,"_ Felix snapped back, equally ready to start a fight. Sylvain tried to get between them, begging them both to calm down.

"I can lie down here," Dimitri retorted, dangerously grinding his teeth, "And I can do it _alone._ You're upsetting Sylvain."

"To hell with Sylvain," Felix hissed darkly. "Don't make me fight you, Dimitri. You always lose."

"Please, there's no need to fight!" Sylvain was pleading. "Dima, please just stay with us... I'll make your favorite!"

 **_"I'm fine!"_ ** Dimitri finally thundered. **_"Leave me alone!"_ ** His voice shook the windows.

Sylvain, immediately silenced, backed away, completely cowed. He looked scared, his brown eyes bright with tears as he cast them at his feet.

"Okay," Felix said airily, equally affected by Dimitri raising his voice, but in a much more hostile way. "Fine." He steered Sylvain down the hallway, where he immediately burst into full on sobs.

When Dimitri left, the door slammed, enough to rock it on its hinges. In this fine home, Dimitri flew into a rage. Beautiful vases shattered, dishes. It looked like a wild boar had rushed through the place. But when he came to his piano, his beautiful grand piano--a Steinway-- he stopped. He stopped in his rage and sat at the piano to cry, to finally just... sit there and weep. He had been a fool. Fooled by Claude, had driven his only friends away... what use was he?

But he had work. The children counted on him.

He quietly began to clean up his own mess. He had several texts from Sylvain, begging him to come back, begging to take care of him, and finally just begging him to answer. There were a few from Cornelia too, group texts, reminding everyone about the big meeting in two days. One from Mercedes, a priest who worked with the organization, asking if he needed anything. She was so sweet.

Dimitri stared at them. He managed to send the same message to all of them. _I'm fine. Don't worry so much._

Then, to Cornelia, _I'll be there._

It was all he could manage. Sometimes it was too much to get up off the floor. Other times he was wildly productive, tearing the weeds out of his rooftop garden, spilling soil everywhere.

Sylvain stopped by, because he had to. It was in his nature to care for everyone, even when he seemed like a useless layabout. He knocked and knocked and when no one answered, he left Chinese food on the doorstep for him.

That's when he got a message of a very different kind.

  
  


**UNKNOWN NUMBER**

Unfortunately, I need another favor.

  
  


He didn't have to guess who it was.

He sat up, having taken in the Chinese food, gingerly eating it, though now his stomach churned.

  
  


**DIMITRI**

What do you need?

  
  


Claude couldn't believe this was happening. He shook with fury as he tried to type steadily. Sensing his anger and desperation, Afina was crying, and Hilda was trying to calm her.

Traitorous _jackals._ Claude supposed it was nothing more than he deserved. But those people... Those innocent people didn't deserve this. He didn't realize how hasty he was being. How he was putting himself in more danger by sending the cash so quickly, making it look like he just had the money laying around.

  
  


**UNKNOWN NUMBER**

Another thirty.

  
  


This was not the text he wanted to send. This was not the message he had wanted to tell him. He had wanted to apologize. To beg forgiveness. And now... Now he was forced into asking for more.

Dimitri promptly got sick with the little he ate in the nearest sink. No. _No._ This wasn't happening. This wasn't happening.

  
  


**DIMITRI**

I

I can't

That's 60 thousand

  
  


He raked his hands in his hair, tearing it. He lived in a penthouse, but it wasn’t his. He owned nice clothes but they’d belonged to his father. He’d barely been able to afford the first thirty. He was not rich, not since all of his money went willingly into the Foundation. He couldn’t pay that. But if he didn't... it would come out that the head of the Blaiddyd organization was a deviant. They may think he... think he hurt the _children._ They would suffer. They would be betrayed, again. He couldn't sacrifice them for his own sins. He had to do something.

  
  


**DIMITRI**

Where do you want the bank transfer sent?

  
  


Claude swallowed as he watched the texts come in. He tore at his own hair, furious with himself. He was ruining this sweet man's life. If he had any other current contacts to go to... Anyone at all...

  
  


**UNKNOWN NUMBER**

No bank transfers.

Same cafè.

  
  


Dimitri couldn't do it. Couldn't face him again.

  
  


**DIMITRI**

What about a cash drop?

  
  


His lips twitched.

  
  


**DIMITRI**

I can't be there in person.

  
  


**UNKNOWN NUMBER**

I can come to you. Best I can offer.

  
  


**DIMITRI**

That is fine.

  
  


He sent the address to his beautiful penthouse, informed the doorman he would have a visitor. Then, he placed an ad on one of his social media channels, seldom used.

_Dimitri A. Blaiddyd_

_1996 Steinway Model S Crown Jewel for sale, $30k. Is anyone looking for this beautiful instrument? She needs a new home._

Before the accident, the piano was his pride and joy. As the son of a rich man, he was forced into playing music of some kind, but he’d fallen in love with this one. He was by no means a prodigy, but he’d become good enough that he was pleasant to listen to, even in practice.

And after the accident, rather than his pride and joy, it was his only solace. His only comfort. Touching those white keys and bringing forth music, no matter how melancholy, had soothed him, had filled his lonely, starving air with the same sounds as before, and he could just imagine his mother, his father, Glenn, smiling and complimenting the piece, no matter how badly his hands shook when he played.

It was the only thing that kept him sane when he returned from the hospital. He would _never_ have sold it.

Of course, Felix, bored at home and scrolling away, saw the ad immediately. He frowned, glancing over at Sylvain, moping on the couch with ice cream. He wasn't going to tell him. He locked himself in their bedroom and called Dimitri. He hoped, for Dimitri's sake, that he answered, because if he didn't, he was going to go personally murder him.

"Felix," Dimitri answered after the fourth or fifth ring. "Are you interested in the piano?" He knew Felix played, too. And he was in the right price range. As he spoke, he was getting out other papers, sorting them out on his desk.

"I'm thinking about it," Felix said mildly. "Why the fuck are you selling it in the first place? You have many times called it, unironically, your _baby."_

"I don't play as much as I used to," he said, equally mild, airy, "She deserves a good home where someone will play her every day." He wrote another check, writing it out. Claude von Reigan. Thirty thousand dollars and no cents. Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd. He tucked it into a crisp white envelope, unmarked.

Felix bared his teeth, which Dimitri could feel, even if he couldn't see it. "Fine. I'll buy it. But what the fuck is going on with you, Dimitri?" he snapped. "Was the meeting really this bad or is it something else?"

"I'm just doing some cleaning. I'll arrange for delivery for you. Maybe tell Sylvain it's a gift. I know he lusts after it." He eyed the door, quiet. "I've got another call. Maybe another inquiry. I'll turn them down. Thank you, Felix."

He choked on his words a moment, needing to sort them. "...Thank you." Without much more explanation, he hung up. His insurance papers were spread on the table.

If he died, he thought with complete lack of fear or misery, then his insurance would likely cover whatever bribe money would be needed to keep Claude hushed, keep the Blaiddyd Foundation running after he was gone. After all, there was no point in extorting a dead man.

Felix glared at his phone. Unbelievable. Dimitri never hung up on anyone. Least of all his friends. Something was going on with him and Felix... Well, he was worried. He was going to do some digging of his own.

  
  


Dimitri's doorbell rang.

Dimitri peered through the peephole, having to train his eye to focus on what lay beyond it. He had to be sure. It was undoubtedly Claude, in sunglasses, looking as casual as he had before, a jacket slung over his shoulder. Dimitri slid the envelope under his door.

"It's all there," he said quietly. "Will you be expecting monthly payments?" He had to be sure it was written into the insurance clauses.

Claude looked almost disappointed not to be let in. As if he deserved to be let in. He crouched down to pick up the envelope. "Dimitri..." he said quietly, and his face fell. "Please, just let me in for a minute. I want to talk to you."

Ah. To settle accounts, Dimitri assumed. The door swung open, and Dimitri wandered from it, unsteady.

He looked horrible. it was clear he hadn't slept at all, eyes dark and sunken, and the burns Claude noticed on his hands looked fresh. He milled about, taking the piano's cover down. He'd swept away everything he destroyed, which made the penthouse just look... empty.

Claude's heart sunk to see him so destroyed. He looked around the penthouse, trying to make himself feel better about extorting him. "Nice place you've got," he said quietly. As if he couldn't afford sixty grand at the drop of a hat. Only rich people lived in penthouse suites.

"It was my parents’," Dimitri said quietly, though that didn't really help his case.

There was not much personality here for Claude to glean, nor even family photos. It was white, clean, empty. Nothing comfortable, like a cave of ice. He found he didn't feel better at all somehow. He shuffled his feet. "Look, this was not supposed to happen," he tried to explain. "I didn't mean... I didn't want this."

Dimitri glanced over his shoulder at him with one eye. "Why did you take the photos, then?"

"Well, I meant to do _that,"_ Claude swallowed understanding how bad this looked. "What I mean is... It wasn't supposed to happen a second time. I swear, it wasn't."

"What's the money for, Claude?" Dimitri asked, turning away. "Are you in debt? Gambling? Blackmailed?" His voice was soft. "If you had just asked... I would've given you what you wanted."

Claude laughed a bit darkly, running his hands along the beautiful marble mantle. "You really expect me to believe that? That you were some knight in shining armor who would come to the rescue of a _whore?"_

The problem was, he _did_ believe him. Or he wanted to. Maybe he should have just asked. But the world had always been cruel to him.

Dimitri didn't answer for a while, sinking to the piano bench. He played a few notes, his mangled hands, pinkened and peeling, sticking out of his crisp shirt sleeves.

"What did you want to discuss?"

Claude had wanted to apologize, and he had done so. But it wasn't enough. "It wasn't gambling," he said, in weak defense of himself. "In fact, it's probably nothing like you're thinking. And you may not believe me, but I'm... Sorry I had to do it. That's all."

He made for the door. He couldn’t stand here and explain himself. The Gods of Fate had made it pretty clear that this was what he deserved.

"You know where to find me if you need--anything else,” Dimitri mumbled, turning his head away from the door. “Please don't go to someone who will hurt you."

Claude was hoping that Dimitri would stop him. Would demand more answers. He was hoping Dimitri might even hurt him. It was the only way to think of paying for what he'd done. "I don't ever get a say in the matter."

"You can choose me," Dimitri tried. "I'll support you." Honestly, he wasn’t sure what made him say that. He couldn’t support him--not financially, anyway. But he did want to support him in ways he could manage. Maybe then he wouldn’t have to die.

Claude's expression soured. There it was, buried under that sweet expression somewhere. _Choose me and I'll give you anything you desire. Be mine and I'll give you anything you want._ The possessive men and women of the elite. Thinking a person could be bought and sold. He was not giving up his freedom so easily.

In a fit of sudden anger, he spat, "As if I'd believe that."

Dimitri flinched, hitting a sour note. "I keep my word," he said bitterly, noting without saying that Claude was the one among them who did not.

Claude laughed at him, the naive man. He waved the envelope with the check in it. "You sure do. Thanks for everything, _Matthew."_

He left before he said anything he’d regret more than that utterly cruel taunt.

Dimitri quietly locked the door after him. He had tried to scrape this together, but... Claude didn't want him. He wanted the money, the safety... his stupidity. He began to play, fingers winding their way over the keys in slight patterns at first, becoming thunderous. Any other piano might have come apart from the force he played with. As if some divine mercy struck him, this one did not. Besides, he could not sell Felix a broken piano. Then Claude wouldn’t be able to cash that check.

He drew away, returned to his desk, to the papers. The fury in him had become cold, had become still, frozen in veins like the blood. He thought a little of Edelgard, when they had been in group therapy together, her face numb. Maybe she had the right idea, then.

Claude kicked a piece of trash on the street. He never cried. Never. But now he did, feeling guilty and useless. He'd only gotten into this shady business to help people, just like Dimitri. He'd been just as naive back then, gotten hurt so many times. Maybe Dimitri would be wiser now. Maybe he wouldn't choose people who hurt him.

He stumbled a little blindly into the road and when a sleek black car nearly ran him over, he shrieked in anger and kicked it, denting the hood. Stupid, fucking rich people. Hoarding their money instead of helping. He hurried away before they pressed charges.

Felix parked and calmly looked at the damage. Well, that guy had been having a rough day. He sighed. Nothing he couldn't buff out. He didn't even care right now. He made his way up to Dimitri's place and knocked. There was no sound, not even a thump. Nothing. The penthouse was on the top floor, one of two on this floor. Just hollow echoes; no stirring of someone inside.

Dimitri was far back in the bedroom. He sat on his bed, soaking. It had taken a while to get a lot of it together, but cracking open enough of the lighters in the place, anything flammable, drenched into his skin, his clothing. He settled back on the pillow, deaf to the other sounds, as he fiddled with the last lighter intact in his hands.

_I should have burned with them. Now I will, to the pit of flames where I belong._

_Can you imagine?_ Cornelia had said. _We need strong leadership, not someone so weak-hearted..._

All the king’s horses and all the king's men couldn't put Dimitri together again.

Felix put his ear to the door. He didn't hear anything. Still, it was possible he was inside. Inside and doing something stupid. He called him, just in case.

The phone rang, and Dimitri heard it echoing, echoing, in the shell of his ear, so far off. Who was that? Why were bells ringing? He could hear sirens, red flashing lights blinding him--two eyes--one eye--

Felix listened to the door again and heard Dimitri's obnoxious ringtone (chosen by Sylvain). So he was definitely in there. Very calmly, Felix dialed 911 and put the phone down on the carpeted floor of the hallway next to him.

This was not the first time this had happened. And they never should have let him leave.

He rushed the door.

**BANG**

Silence.

**BANG BANG**

Silence again.

 **BANG BANG BANG** **_CRACK_ **

The sound of breaking wood almost broke through Dimitri's reverie.

_Dad?_

He lifted his head a little.

_Stepmother?_

Was someone there? The lighter twirled in his fingers--and fire ripped up his left arm, catching onto anything his skin was coated in.

_Glenn?_

Fire--fire was familiar.

It was fortunate for Felix that he had a good idea of what Dimitri was up to. He could smell the lighter fluid from the hall. He grabbed the tiny extinguisher, ripping it from the wall of the kitchen as he bolted down to Dimitri's room. He only had to kick the door once before it caved to his strength, and white foam sprayed over Dimitri before he could even grasp who was there.

He was utterly doused in white, white like clouds, like snow, sinking into his skin, putting out the last of the flames before it reached his face. Somehow, he had ended up on the floor unable to see through the smeared foam in his face. There was a shape of someone small, in dark clothing. El? Felix?

Felix stood over him, his face set in a grim line, staring down at him with acceptance, rather than horror or shock. He had expected this. He had always expected this. But unlike Sylvain, he wasn't going to impair Dimitri's way of living. He wasn't going to force him to stay in their home to keep an eye on him. No. But he would always be there to put the fires out.

"You have exactly three minutes to come up with a good reason why I shouldn't tell Sylvain about this."

Sylvain would be beyond devastated. No one wanted that for the sensitive man.

Dimitri knew it couldn't be hidden, he knew it couldn't be swept away. He was going to have to live, to face Sylvain, to face Felix, here and now. His chest hitched, and finally, he wept before him, shaking. He had nothing--no defense, no reason. Nothing he could say, nothing he could do. Claude was paid. He couldn't hide this anymore.

Felix tossed away the fire extinguisher and dragged him into the bathroom. He didn't even tell him to strip. He just turned on the cold water and sprayed him off. He was going to stink of lighter fluid for hours, but Felix could get the worst of it off. He let Dimitri cry, then told him to stay put warningly as he went to deal with the fire department.

Dimitri still had no idea what Felix told them to get the police to leave.

When he came back, he'd taken off his jacket. "Start explaining," he demanded. "Fast."

The skin on Dimitri’s left arm was raw and swollen, the fabric burnt away. "There--" he managed, sinking, "There were pictures. I paid. It's--going to keep coming. The Foundation..."

Felix didn't need a more detailed explanation, didn’t seem all that surprised. He folded his arms. "Hm." He stooped down to look at his arm. The fibers were fused to his skin. "Why the fuck did you think suicide would help? Why didn't you tell us?"

"He was going to print it," Dimitri said. "We'd--lose all of our grants. The kids--my insurance policy--it'd be enough. It'd be enough to cover it."

Felix wasn't deterred. "Did he get your consent to take the pictures?"

"No," he said, "I couldn't see." He didn't seem to understand what that had to do with anything as he sat there on the shower floor, trembling.

"Then he couldn't print them. Idiot." Felix shook his head and sat on the edge of the tub. "No publisher would do it. It would put them out of business. They'd be sued, not even by you, but by the city itself." He stared him down. "And if this Claude you and Sylvain have been talking about is who I think it is, he knew that the whole time. He scammed you, Dimitri."

Dimitri stared at him, skin bloody and eye wide in disbelief. Something inside him broke, and he shut down, folding into himself. He was still and quiet, only his breath heaving.

Felix watched the truth sink in. He hated to be so callous to him, but he needed him to know, needed him to understand. He picked up his phone. "I'm calling you an ambulance and you are going to get in, so help me."

Dimitri just showed him a dim little nod.

EMTs knew what was happening shortly after they arrived. In addition to the care of the burns, an orderly stood by, enormous and looming. Handcuffs were offered, but there was nowhere to clip them that wasn't torched by fire one way or another. He was pushed, nudged, bullied into the ambulance, and Felix was nudged out of the double doors.

"He's going to St. Seiros Memorial, you can call in later."

Felix nodded. He'd known this was coming. But he was not going to lose his best friend.

Sylvain arrived, looking an absolute wreck and sobbing as he tried to demand Dimitri's release. Felix just pulled him aside.

They followed the ambulance to St. Seiros and immediately put in a request to see him, though they knew it would be hours.

Dimitri hadn't been here in a couple of years. But they knew him well. Some of the same nurses tended to him carefully. He was strapped to a table for his own good. Now, of course, he had different memories of this. Of a different table, with Claude’s hands. Good or bad, it was hard to know at this point.

Mostly, mostly he just wanted to sleep now. He wanted to go away and be quiet and numb. The humiliation, the misery... He had let them see it, he had troubled them, hurt them. He couldn't turn over, couldn't get comfortable. His fine clothing was gone, just simple fabrics, no shoes, no shoelaces, only socks, his eyepatch taken too.

Dimitri closed his eye. He could almost hear Sylvain through the walls, blaming himself for this. For letting anyone near his beloved Dimitri. And he could just see Felix now, silent and grim as he filled out all the paperwork. What was Claude doing? He had the money now. What was he doing with it? Having so successfully scammed sixty grand off of him?

He did sleep. He slept for a long, long time. Vaguely, he could feel people touch him, move him, remove and change his straps, attempt to wake him for food, but mostly, they just let him sleep.

He dreamed of his parents. Of Glenn, Rodrigue, and Edelgard. All of them laughed and called him a fool. Edelgard just shook her head, giving him a sad look. _Smarter people than you have been scammed by Claude von Reigan,_ she told him. _Don't feel so bad._

And there were fields and fields of sunflowers too. Claude stood in the middle of them, looking up at the sun. He belonged in the sun, glinting off his copper skin, those dark curls. Those vivid green eyes...

"--tri. --mitri. Dimitri."

Felix's voice.

He opened his eye, just a crack, his lashes stuck together, practically _woven_ together.

"Fe," he whispered, as if speaking took too much effort.

Felix looked down at him. "Yeah," he sniffed. "They won't let Sylvain in until he calms down." He lifted Dimitri's phone. "You've been getting calls from an unknown number. I deleted it."

Dimitri struggled to sit up, surprised to not be caught by the straps. He felt like his head was full of sand. "Did they leave a message?" Everything swam. He wanted to lie back down.

Felix snatched the phone away and snarled. "Dimitri. _Look_ at yourself. Look where you _are!_ Do you really think I'm going to let you go chat with some stranger?"

His arm was bandaged up, but honestly, it wasn't that badly burned. The more concerning damage was to Dimitri's fragile mind. He sank back down. "...What if he's hurt?" he asked.

Felix's eyes flashed. _"And?"_ he snapped angrily. "That isn't your problem, is it?"

Dimitri supposed it wasn't. But... somehow, he felt it was his responsibility. He was just still; as in times past, Felix was right, as he always was. He could faintly hear Sylvain, and tried to turn his head. "Did I miss the meeting?" Cornelia would kill him.

Felix rolled his eyes. "Of course you missed the meeting. You've been asleep nearly four days. I cannot _believe_ that’s what you're worried about right now. What about Sylvain? He's tortured himself sick because of this. Did you even give a thought to him when you lit yourself up?"

"Where is he?" Dimitri tried to drag himself upright--it was so hard to hold up his head. His arm felt shredded, and he tried to focus, sort out his one eye to fix on Felix.

Felix folded his arms, still holding Dimitri's phone. "He's just outside. They're only letting us in one at a time." He studied Dimitri and then suddenly, far too suddenly, he slumped against the chair, looking lost and... Afraid. It was so rare to see Felix in this state. He ran his fingers through his dark hair and released an unsteady breath.

"Dimitri... I thought... I thought we'd put this all behind us."

"I'm..." Dimitri found himself choking a little. "I'm sorry. I let you down too."

He was always doing that, disappointing... He thought he was better now, healthy... and he had thrown it all away for what? For the hope of being understood, loved, cared for in the way his sick little mind desired? He had been _indulged,_ that was all.

"I'm sorry, Fe."

He was terrified to promise. He had already gone back on his word once, now. How could Felix ever believe anything he said again?

Felix scraped himself back together, unsure, but firm. "Fine, fine. Just. Please come stay with us when they let you out. Please. Don't make me beg," he demanded. He really hated begging.

That, that much Dimitri could promise. "I will," he said. "I'll stay as long as you want."

He felt some... sense of relief. He hadn't realized being in that penthouse, all alone, had hurt him in ways he didn't understand. He thought of the nights with Felix and Sylvain, squabbling over some expensive purchase or dinner that night... It felt like home. It occurred to him that by now, he probably had spent as long with them as he had with his parents.

When Felix left, Sylvain came crashing in, worn red from weeping so much, clutching Dimitri's uninjured hand so hard that it went numb. He was babbling like he always did, blaming himself for letting him walk out of their house, blaming himself for not staying with the Chinese food, blaming himself for ever bringing him to All the King’s Men in the first place, for letting Claude take advantage of him.

From his babbling, Dimitri gathered that Sylvain had tried to go after Claude, but he hadn't shown up for his shifts. He'd tried to have him arrested for taking unsolicited pictures of Dimitri, but once he realized it was Claude von Reigan, there was really nothing he could do. Even police, it seemed, did not want to go against the notorious reporter. And he didn’t have hard enough evidence.

It was a lot of noise, but it was comforting noise, the sound of Sylvain, _his_ Sylvain, so protective, safe. He leant forward, and lay his face against his shoulder, clinging with what he could.

"Don't hurt him," Dimitri said quietly. "He needed it."

Sylvain went silent for a moment. _"Needed_ it?" he hissed. "Needed to hurt my Dima for money? What the _hell,_ he's a famous reporter, Dimitri! He could have gone after literally anyone else, what could he possibly need sixty thousand for!?"

Dimitri burrowed into his shoulder, soaking through his sweater. He had no idea; but--Claude von Reigan--he must have needed it. That shard of sunlight... He had to believe him.

 _I didn't want this,_ Claude had said. Despite everything, Dimitri had to believe him. Had to believe he hadn’t been so used that he was unlovable.

Sylvain calmed a little bit, as he always did when Dimitri leaned on him this way. Sylvain was very easy to appease. He just wanted to know he was useful to his friends, that's all.

"Okay, okay. I won't... Go after him. Since you asked." Sylvain was good on his word and besides, it wasn’t like he hadn’t already exhausted his resources. "But... Can you at least promise me that you won't fall in love without my permission again? Or better yet, fall in love with _me?"_ he begged.

Dimitri didn't have the energy to tell him he didn't think he was going to fall in love again. He just leaned, feeling his heartbeat calm, smelling his familiar soap.

"I want to go home," Dimitri told him instead, and they both know he meant with them. "But do I have a right to? I was so cruel to both of you."

Sylvain held his head gently, rubbing his fingers gently over his scalp. "Stop. Don't talk like that. As far as I'm concerned, you live with us now. Might as well, since Felix says he paid thirty thousand for you as a pet."

Dimitri quieted, shutting his eye as he let himself be stroked, comforted. He drifted a little. How could he still be tired? "I want to go home." He curled himself up, as if he were trying to hide, curl into his arms.

Sylvain petted him again. "You can," he said gently. "Tomorrow. They want to monitor you a little bit more, okay? We're not leaving. We'll take you home straight away."

In the five days he slept at St. Seiros, Dimitri barely experienced any of it. He heard the doctors talking to him gently, but he barely retained any of it. He was given pills and seat belted to the back of the car with Sylvain.

They put him right in their bed, and one of them was with him at all times. Sylvain made soup and when they went to bed, Dimitri was sandwiched between Felix and Sylvain both. Felix had refused to give him his phone back. He'd hidden it, probably for the best. But Dimitri still couldn't help but wonder why Claude would continue to call him. Surely after five days of not answering, he must have known it was pointless.

  
  
  
  


For two weeks, Dimitri was not moved. He was not allowed to cook or clean, to do chores of any kind. He was not allowed to miss his medication and he was not allowed out of sight of either Felix or Sylvain, except in the bathroom. And even then, he wasn’t allowed to lock the door or even shut it fully. He wasn’t allowed to take more than ten minutes either way.

It was all for the best. He was fed, pampered, made to play Animal Crossing, not allowed to go to work or receive visitors. Felix had hidden his phone. He wasn’t allowed to have it. Probably for the best.

He often napped on the couch, but he slept in the bed between both of them every night. And he slept so often it was hard to think he could even have the time or energy to try killing himself. When Dimitri woke up from one such nap it was because Felix wanted to turn in. He yawned and stretched and looked down at Sylvain and Dimitri. "Are you coming?"

"I will in a minute," Sylvain said. It seemed he was stealing all of someone's peaches.

Dimitri stretched out like a cat, easily taking up the whole couch and then some. "I'll stay with him for a while. It was very funny when the spider caught him." Mostly because Sylvain had squealed and run all over the island.

Felix shrugged and walked off like a contented cat, lazy and warm.

Sylvain waited until Felix was gone, then gestured at Dimitri to stay quiet for a minute and pulled out of his pocket Dimitri's phone. "I swiped it from the safebox," he whispered. "Go to the upstairs bathroom where he can't hear you. You have fifteen minutes, okay? Also, please don't tell Felix these are his peaches..."

Dimitri blinked for a moment. Felix playing Animal Crossing was somehow... helplessly adorable. But he had no time to waste. He slipped into the bathroom, where all the razors and other elements were hidden, and crouched down inside to desperately flip through his phone. He turned on the faucet to listen to voicemails, anything to muffle the sound of the recording playing, no matter how faint. He was sure Felix had the hearing of a rabbit.

He just… he had to know.

There were nearly twenty missed calls, and sixteen of them were from the same unknown number. But the three voicemails? Cornelia, Mercedes, and Ashe (his technical assistant at the charity). Not a single voicemail left by Claude. Maybe he had to be careful? Couldn't risk leaving a voicemail?

He checked texts next, desperate for anything, anything that would tell him what was happening aside from actually calling that blocked number.

Nothing but sweet ‘get well’ messages from people at the firm.

Damn. Fine. _Fine!_ He carefully turned off the faucet, and then began to flush the toilet, pressing the call button. If he could just hear his voice...

"Hello?" It was not Claude's voice at all, it was a young woman's voice, sounding hurried, concerned. In the background, Dimitri heard a child crying. Was this Claude's... wife and child?

"Hello?" Dimitri whispered, hoping his voice would be covered by the rushing water.

"Um, you called me, remember?" The woman's voice was irritated. "Listen. I'm sure that you're probably not fond of him, especially since you're listed in his phone as 'beautiful blonde Dimitri,' but have you seen Claude? Something's happened and I'm very worried. He's been missing for a week."

"What?" Dimitri said dumbly, his mouth suddenly dry. It was too much to process. Who was this woman? Oh, goddess, what if she _was_ his wife? Was he a homewrecker? Had he destroyed a household as well as himself? Where was Claude? What had happened to him?

He began hyperventilating, "I--haven't--seen him since I gave him thirty thousand dollars." And then, he hung up, sliding the phone as far away from himself as possible.

After a momentary pause, the phone began ringing again, buzzing so loudly against the tile floor that it was sure to alert Felix if he didn't pick it up immediately.

Naturally, Dimitri flung himself across the phone to silence it with a thump.

It kept ringing. Over and over and over. Then he got texts.

  
  


**UNKNOWN NUMBER**

please

im begging u

pick up!!!!

claude might be in trouble

please ill do anything

  
  


He panicked, fumbling the phone, trying to silence it--though as Sylvain had said, he was inept at technology. Finally, he answered, holding the phone shakily to his ear. "What... kind of trouble?"

The woman on the other side, who had sounded so snappy before, now sounded truly concerned. "Listen... I don't know you, and I'm not sure what I should be saying. But... if you care for him at all... I have an idea where he might be. But it's... dangerous so bring a gun."

And without any further explanation, she told him to meet him in an hour at the fountain square and hung up.

Dimitri knew the jig was up. He could hear Felix breathing outside the door, and spoke in a smaller voice than a man his size should be able to make. 

"Fe?"

"I was just waiting for you to finish that riveting conversation," Felix snapped back, clearly irritated and also sleep-deprived. Never a good combination with him.

Dimitri swallowed, scrunching his eyes shut, and finally opened the door. He deserved whatever was coming to him.

Felix stood outside with his arms crossed, alongside a very nervous Sylvain. Felix held his hand out for the phone. "Dimitri, you can't do this. You can't possibly fall for this a second time. You're smarter than that."

Dimitri put the phone in his hand. "There's... a woman. She sounds afraid," he said softly. "Please, talk to her? I beg of you."

Felix clearly was going to do no such thing. "Since you clearly can't be trusted alone with Sylvain, I quit my job. So now you'll have to deal with me twenty-four seven. I am not letting you get hurt again. This man has tricked you out of literally everything you have and almost got you killed, Dimitri. And this woman is probably an accomplice."

"Then use her to have him arrested," Dimitri said, trying to appeal to Felix's sense of justice, but the first half of his sentence sank in. "...You quit your job?!"

Felix rolled his eyes. "Like it even matters." He worked for his father after all. It was not the first time he'd quit. "Dimitri, your safety is more important."

Sylvain swallowed. "Maybe we should just go check... What if she's telling the truth?"

Felix hissed. "Not you too! Are you both a bunch of fucking _suckers?_ You know what, don’t even answer that.”

Sylvain swallowed. "But doesn't it seem weird that they would keep trying after Dimitri already caught on to the scheme?" Dimitri nodded, shuffling closer to Sylvain, as if perhaps both of their faces looking sweet might convince Felix.

"Yes... Or… He's hurt. He told me--he told me he didn't want to, but he didn't have a choice... perhaps there is--more to this? What if he's hurting others, or himself?"

Felix looked very much like he wanted to hit them both. But despite his outward apathy, they both knew he cared for them both so deeply that he'd do anything for them. He'd rushed into a burning room to save Dimitri... Twice in his life.

He groaned. "I swear to the Goddess, if this is a trap, you both will owe me big time." He seized his keys.

"I'll give you blow jobs for a month!" Sylvain cried.

"Two," Felix hissed and slammed open the door.

Dimitri caught Felix, bringing his small face into both of his hands, and kissed him, long and lingering. When he finally pulled away, he murmured, "Thank you, thank you, Felix."

Felix's face was red and he refused to look him in the eye. "Damn it," he grumbled, clearly very flustered. "Just... Get in the car, you fucking boar."

Sylvain cooed over that moment, because of course he would. He knew how much Felix adored Dimitri. They both did. Felix just snapped at him to shut up and started the car. "All I've got is a sword," he sighed as he backed out of the driveway. Because Felix was a total nerd, he knew how to wield it, but this was the twenty-first century after all.

"I have my gun," Sylvain piped up.

Dimitri hadn't really gotten dressed in a while, hadn't left their house. He was peering out the car windows as if he was going to another planet, buckled in the back with Sylvain.The clothes felt strange on him after so long.

When they arrived at fountain square on a Tuesday night, no one was really there. No one but a woman with long pink hair, bouncing a tiny Almyran girl on her hip.

Who else could they be here for?

"I... think it's his wife and child," Dimitri said nervously. "They're... I'm a homewrecker," he whimpered.

Felix growled. "Stay in the car." If it were just the woman, they knew he'd have taken his sword. Felix was no sexist, this woman could be dangerous. But because she had a child, he got out and left it behind. Both Dimitri and Sylvain knew that Felix was incredibly tender with children, a secret Felix would kill them for leaking.

The window was down so they could hear them speaking.

"You're beautiful, but you're not blonde," the woman said accusingly. She had expected a blonde, obviously, from the way Claude had put Dimitri’s name into his phone.

Felix ignored her. "What scam is it this time?" he snapped. "How much money are you looking to take from him?"

The woman looked hurt. "Look, I know Claude isn't the best guy, but he's... He's only doing it to help Almyrans cross into the Kingdom," she said quietly. The little girl on her hip had her fingers stuck in her mouth. She looked like she'd been crying.

"You expect us to believe that?" Felix snapped.

Dimitri peered out of the window, Sylvain's chin resting atop his head so they were stacked up, like a pair of sweet buns. As soon as Dimitri laid eyes on the girl, Sylvain could feel him squirming for the door handle.

The woman looked over Felix's head and, seeing them looking, and only seeing one blonde, took a step forward. "You have to believe me," she begged. "Please... I know he's hurt you, but does he deserve to die for it?"

"Yes," Felix quipped without mercy. He could still see the calm acceptance in Dimitri’s eye, his body lit up like eerie neon.

She hefted the girl up into her arms, to let her hug her neck, bumping into her hoop earrings. "Now listen," she said, raising her voice, "I'm sorry about your money. I'm sorry. It's just _money._ Claude is smart, he'll be able to pay you back, but kids lives are at stake here, _little kids!"_

Finally, Afina burst, and began to cry, "Where's Khalid?"

Dimitri couldn't be contained at that point.

Sylvain quickly jumped out after him, not to contain Dimitri, but to contain Felix, who had begun to shake with fury.

 _"Just money_ would be one thing!" he snarled. "Dimitri tried to _kill_ himself! He set himself on _fire!_ Do you have _any_ idea how much pain and suffering this Claude has caused!?"

Afina wailed louder at Felix's outburst. Sylvain rushed over to shush him gently.

Hilda went quiet then. As Afina began to weep, Dimitri bent, offering to take her. She clutched the baby tighter at first, afraid of this huge man covered in burn scars, missing an eye, but the desperation in his gaze, his hands reached out to take her... she felt she could trust him. Afina was placed into his arms and he hushed her, smoothing her hair as she sobbed. Goddess, this poor sap. No wonder Claude was able to pull one over on him so easily.

"...That happened?" she said, horrorstruck. "He--he wouldn't have--if he'd known, I know, Claude's... stupid, a schemer. But he's not a monster. He... went on and on about you."

Sylvain was literally the only one who could calm Felix down when he was like this. As he gently hushed and held his husband close, the woman looked up at Dimitri, watched as Afina slowed to whimpers in his hands.

"I can see why," she sighed. "Claude is not the type to wallow or regret, you know. But he was so broken up about scamming you." She looked him up and down. "I'm Hilda, by the way. And that's Afina. She likes having her hair pet like that."

Afina certainly seemed to like the heaviness of the arms around her. It reminded her of Khalid a little bit. She looked up at Dimitri's face and touched his eyepatch curiously. "You know where Khalid is?"

"No, little one, I do not. I want to help--Khalid?"

"Yeah, Claude's an anglicized name. Apparently people can pronounce Kafka just fine, but not Khalid.”

 _Khalid..._ what a handsome name. He bent his neck to let Afina touch his eyepatch, letting her explore.

"...Who does he owe?" Dimitri said finally.

"Jackals," she said quietly. "An Almyran cartel that, well, moves folks. For a price. Claude's been moving whole families at once and paying their way, which is nice and all, until they suddenly decide overnight they want another thirty grand, or they start... taking people."

"Taking them where?" Afina asked, pleading.

The look on Hilda's face shadows suddenly over her youthful eyes, told them that wherever it was, it wasn't good.

Sylvain and Felix had come over to join the conversation now. Felix looked furious, but he had agreed to be quiet... For now.

"A cartel, huh?" Sylvain tapped his lip. "Well, we can't bring a little girl with us."

"Then you'll come?" Hilda asked, eyes wide and hopeful.

Sylvain looked at Dimitri. "Yeah, I think we will. But no guarantees we can help. And if this is some kind of trap, you're in for a world of hurt." He just jabbed his thumb at Felix, who was stewing in his own thundercloud.

"Uh, noted," Hilda said. "He's scary."

"Very scary," Afina agreed.

"Where shall the little one go?"

"Well... I think my girlfriend can help with that," Hilda said, whipping out an absurdly pink phone to type out a message.

"Your... what?" Dimitri asked, his mouth dry. "You aren't his wife?"

"Ew," Hilda said, wrinkling her nose, "Goddess, for the last time, _no._ Gross. Claude's a nice guy and all, but that little chinstrap? Less than six feet? No. Now, you are a tall drink of water," she said, giving a wink to Dimitri. A warning growl from Felix got her to finish sending the message. "Marianne will be here in two shakes of a lamb's tail, she says... So. What're we packing?" She cracked her knuckles.

Afina looked up brightly. "I like Marianne," she said, but she patted Dimitri's cheek. "I like you," she announced in the way that children claimed people. "Khalid looks at pictures of you all the time, but he won't show me."

Hilda actually laughed. "Oh... Uh... Yeah. I saw those. Sorry about that." She chewed her lip. "You're uh, really hot though!"

Felix ground his teeth so loudly they could hear it.

"Right, hold this," Dimitri gently passed Afina off to Sylvain and stuck a foot into the fountain. Drowning suddenly seemed better than knowing others had seen him that way.

Sylvain seized him. To Hilda, he said, "We'll discuss that later. Where do you think he's gone?"

Hilda unfolded her phone again. "Claude gave me this address. He just said it was in case anything went wrong but... It _is_ a warehouse." She sent the address to Dimitri's phone. "I'll wait for Marianne and then follow you. I may not look it, but I know krav maga."

Dimitri, grasped around the waist, ankle-deep in fountain water, gave a single nod. "We'll go," he said. "I can make a good decoy for money."

"Um, no? Absolutely not?" Sylvain said, grasping him tighter.

Hilda shook her head. "Um... I was more thinking we'd... Fight them. Not that I like having to fight, but I think, at this point, they'd ask too much and then double cross us again."

Felix snorted as if to say _no shit._

"I... I can swing heavy things? Dimitri said, feeling useless. "And fence."

"That's not too bad?" Hilda said, hopeful.

"One time Dimitri ripped someone's wheel off their car while trying to replace the tire," Sylvain told them, a bit of pride in his voice. “The whole thing.”

Felix sighed. If Dimitri and Sylvain were so set on going, he had no choice. "Get in the car," he snapped at them both. Sylvain was quick to obey. Hilda bid them good luck.

They drove in silence, Felix speeding hard across the city to where there were so many empty warehouses... A perfect place for an ambush.

Dimitri was flexing his hands, trying to prepare himself to punch. Was that what he'd be doing? They only had one gun between them all. Were they going into a slaughterhouse?

Would... Claude even care he was coming?

Felix pulled up outside the warehouse, pitch black, devoid of other cars. But he'd expected that.

"We're all going to die," Felix grumbled as he got out, slamming the door shut. Dimitri's bleeding heart was going to get them killed. Sylvain stepped out, cocking his gun. Felix had one of his swords in the back, which meant Dimitri would be armed only by his own freakish strength.

Dimitri stood as imposing as he could, which, in an overcoat, made for an impressive silhouette. He insisted on leading the charge, as he was the broadest, and could catch the most damage before they would get to either Sylvain or Felix.

After an expected squabble, Felix led, with Sylvain and Dimitri behind him. They couldn't convince him otherwise. Dimitri broke the lock with a chunk of iron rebar he found nearby, and pushed open the rusted door with a loud croak.

It was obvious that those inside had been expecting them. Immediately, as the lights flicked on, not one but many guns were trained on them all.

Trapped.

Felix closed his eyes in anger and threw his sword to the floor. Sylvain threw his gun down. They didn't even have a chance to walk _into the damned building._

"Thank you for coming." A man stood, clearly Almyran, with a dark beard and a broad physique. There were at least a dozen others at his command. They were sorely outnumbered and they couldn't run with guns trained on them. "You kept us waiting. I was beginning to think we'd have to kill our cash cow."

He jerked his thumb behind him. There were six Almyran people tied up and gagged. One of them a bit lighter than the rest.

Claude.

He was barely conscious, barely breathing. His whole body was battered and bruised, crusted with blood. The man seized his limp curls and yanked his head up, holding a knife to Claude's throat. "But maybe we don't have to if you give us what we want.

Claude looked up through a heavy black eye and, seeing Dimitri, looked shocked. He could never, in his wildest dreams, imagine Dimitri coming to his rescue.

"Claude," Dimitri gasped, lunging forward toward him without thinking.

The butt of a rifle collided with the back of his head, and he crumpled to the ground, groaning--dizzied but not unconscious.

"You piece of _shit,"_ Sylvain spat, counting the children in that pile of ropes and limbs. All of them were at least younger than Claude. Three were children.

"What do you want?" Dimitri ground out from his knees.

Felix had to admit he was surprised the story was true. But they were in trouble now. He scanned the room, but he didn't see any possible strategies that could bring them out on top. They'd be lucky to survive.

Claude's eyes were misty. He couldn't even believe that Dimitri would come. Even if they all died today, he was incredibly thankful to die knowing perhaps someone cared. He tried to smile through his busted lip.

"Dimitri..." he breathed hoarsely. The man smacked him hard.

Felix frowned. "You have no right to speak to him," he snapped at Claude, as if _he_ were the biggest threat here, but also wanting to kill the man who'd hit Dimitri.

Dimitri coiled his muscles like a panther. Blood poured from his scalp, soaking his skin in curtains of red across his face.

"Fe," Sylvain tried, beginning to panic as they were surrounded, turning his attention, "Look, what do you want? Money?"

"Money, of course," the man laughed. "It seems you gave this one sixty grand. True to my word, I let the others go," he said with mock innocence.

Claude bared his teeth, stained with his own blood. "You promised all of them for thirty, that was the original deal, you _snake."_

The man didn't seem to enjoy being talked back to like that. He shook his head and dropped Claude to the ground, driving his foot so deeply into his ribs that something definitely cracked. One of the children choked back a sob. 

"Take our visitors to the back room," the man sighed. "We'll negotiate with them without interference from this one."

Felix and Sylvain were seized immediately, rough even though they didn't fight back. The men reached for Dimitri, to grab and shove him into a separate room with his friends.

As if through a tunnel, Dimitri watched as their leader fell upon Claude, straddling his hips and just.... Beating him without remorse, without mercy. He heard Claude screaming in pain, could see blood pool around his head... If he didn't stop, Claude would surely die.

All at once, Dimitri’s muscles unspooled, and he sprang to lunge for the man's throat with his teeth, like an animal. His nails, so neat and trimmed, tore into flesh. Bullets pierced him, but he did not falter. When one prey stopped moving, he threw himself toward another. All he could see was red, all he could see was blood, all he could think was violence, ending these monsters who had done wrong by becoming a monster himself.

He heard the screaming and the gunshots but felt nothing. Nothing but fury, nothing but hatred, as he had so long ago, until he whirled on the next moving target and saw it was Claude, lying there in his own blood, eyes wide.

And where, Claude found himself thinking with awful clarity through the haze of his own pain, where was this strength, this unimaginable, horrific violence when he had blackmailed him? Why had Dimitri not just killed him on his doorstep? No one would care if a rich man did it. And no one who had seen him go in would have cared if he had come out. It was like watching the nature channel, all the outtakes of a lion going absolutely berserk, loose amongst a herd of gazelle.

When that blood-soaked face turned towards him, Claude opened his mouth, clearly afraid, but already wounded and said the only thing he could think of. He raised his bound and shaking hands to Dimitri, only one was not broken.

_"...heel."_

Blood and-- _something_ \--hanging from Dimitri’s teeth, he crept to Claude, bowing his head for that shaking hand, rumbling a purr. He could have lost his mind entirely. He could have killed them all. But that word was so familiar, even said a handful of times to him, naked, hands and knees on the scratchy carpet of that back room in the club.

Claude's whole body shook in terror. He knew he deserved nothing else than to die by this man's hand, but he didn't actually _want_ to. He stroked his bloody hair back from his face and stared up at him.

"Why did you come here?" he whispered. Maybe he was just dreaming after all.

Dimitri seemed to come to himself, even bloodstained and dripping, his head leaning into his palm, eye shut. "...To save you," he said. "And these people." But honestly, he hadn’t even known there would be people, _children_ there at all. He’d only known for sure that he would see Claude, even if it was just another trap or scheme.

Claude tried to laugh, but he ended up coughing instead. "Surely not me?" he smiled weakly, still stroking Dimitri's bloody cheek. It was definitely terrifying, but... He was so relieved to see him alive and well. "After all I did to you..."

"I should have listened," Dimitri said. "You should have asked me. It... doesn't matter now."

Sylvain had retrieved his gun, and knelt on a man's back, the barrel to his neck, while Felix cornered two with his sword, who looked both terrified and utterly perplexed.

"Dimitri!" Felix snarled. "We need to go! Get him! Sylvain, get the others!"

Sylvain snapped his gun hard over the man's head and rushed to untie the whimpering hostages.

Dimitri grasped Claude and threw him over his shoulder carelessly in his desperation to escape, just as Hilda arrived, gasping in horror at the other bloodshed spilled on the concrete floors.

"Oh goddess," she whispered. "Okay. Okay. Woah, big guy, handle with care, holy shit, Claude, talk to me, talk to me..." She hurried to hold his head up.

Only then did Dimitri notice the bullet wounds that had pierced him, and barely had time to pass Claude off before he crumpled.

"Come on!" Sylvain cried, shooing the children, "Into the car, sit on each other, there's no time!"

There were distant sirens, and he knew that if these children were caught, undocumented, what awaited them.

Felix was quick to leap in the driver's seat. Some of them fit into Hilda's car, thankfully. But Claude grunted, trying to wrest himself from Hilda's impossibly strong arms to get to Dimitri. It seemed they _both_ weren’t thinking straight.

Felix threw himself back out. "Shit!" He seized Dimitri's arm and dragged him upright. "There's no time! Sylvain, you drive!"

Dimitri barely pushed him into the back of the vehicle before it sped off and Felix had to slam the trunk shut while it was in motion. Dimitri's head was somehow cradled in a young woman's lap. She babbled to him in Almyran, crying and patting his cheek with gratitude. Gratitude and so, so much terror. He sat up, filled with a second wind, gasping. "Where is Claude?"

"He took her car--Come on, shhh, sweetheart, stop crying... I gotta think..." Sylvain was a terrifyingly good driver at high speeds.

Felix was jammed between two Almyran teens, who were somehow bigger than he was. He wasn't saying a word, but his face said it all. He was fuming. But he held it back, watching the young woman carefully as she stroked back Dimitri's hair.

As soon as Dimitri mentioned Claude, they all started speaking at once, repeating his name, "Khalid, Khalid," and praying for him. Obviously, he was much adored by these poor people.

"Khalid..." He repeated, and began to struggle, but two children anchored his legs down.

Sylvain whirled around a corner, nearly running over a curb, but missing by mere inches. They were at the back entrance to All The King's Men. Why?

Sylvain rushed out; it was long before opening hours, but Dedue was setting up for the night. They were closed, Dedue pointed out but soon, as injured children and people began limping out of the car, Dedue's face hardened. Seeing Sylvain, his boss, only cemented it.

"Understood."

To the uninitiated, after all, the club could be easily mistaken as a strange hotel. They were steered away from any of the spicier rooms, and no toys were left out, nor chains or restraints. 

"They--just need to stay here long enough until we find a safehouse."

"We--we need to find Claude--Khalid--" Dimitri sputtered, being dragged inside by an impatient Felix, whose nose bled profusely.

Not half a minute later, Hilda's very bright yellow car sped into the parking lot after them. "Hey!" she snapped out the window. "This isn't a hospital! Claude is bleeding all over my seats! Also, you drive like a maniac!"

"Get. _In,"_ Felix ordered.

"If we take them to a hospital," Dedue explained patiently, "They may be discovered and deported, am I correct in thinking this?"

Sylvain nodded. "Yes. Dedue, please make sure they have blankets? I'm going to bring some food back here. Make sure no one leaves. Please." He knew this was beyond Dedue's pay grade, and made a mental note to give him a huge bonus, even if Dedue would do it for kindness’s sake.

Dedue took it upon himself to make them comfortable. He too, had once been a refugee. He knew what they needed, what would comfort them. He didn't speak their language, but they seemed grateful for his help. Sylvain was back soon, passing out cheap gas station food and water. Felix was on the phone with Mercedes, asking for her healing abilities... And her discretion.

Hilda was familiar to them, speaking in broken, but friendly Almyran like she didn't quite know what to do with so many crying people.

Mercedes appeared quickly enough, and slipped in the back door--after all, a nun couldn't be seen entering a _Dungeon._

"Oh my," she said, bending down to meet the little children. "Oh, my goodness, the goddess bless you all, what has happened here?"

Felix filled her in as best he could without mentioning how they knew Claude. Or his last name. Marianne soon arrived with Afina, who was weeping for Khalid.

Marianne and Mercedes seemed aware of one another--both Sisters of the cloth, which seemed to alarm Marianne once it became clear what her relationship with Hilda was--she didn’t want anyone else in her Order to know. But it didn't seem to bother Mercedes, who smiled in her cheshire-like way that seemed to say she would file that away for later. She gathered up the little ones in her full skirts, healing what she could reach, letting them touch her beautifully thick hair, toy with her veil.

Dimitri, filled with a rush of adrenaline, snatched Claude from the backseat, held across his arms like a bride as he zipped back inside, disappearing into the same bedroom they had used before. Sure, there was a table, with restraints, but he did not pay attention to that for now, as he stretched Claude out on the bed.

Claude looked up at Dimitri as he carried him. So... Warm. He'd never been held, cradled like this. He knew he didn't deserve it, but he leaned into his chest as if for protection. When Dimitri laid him out, Claude touched the man's shoulder, where there was a clear exit wound. "You've been shot," he croaked, his throat rasping.

Dimitri didn't seem to notice. "Shhh. Let me--let me look..." He didn't feel any pain. Not yet. He brushed aside Claude's ruined clothing, seeing the damage that had been done to him.

Claude winced as Dimitri lifted the torn clothes from a pair of broken ribs. "H-hey, come on... Getting shot is way worse than this," he tried to protest. This room brought back both wonderful--and terrible memories.

"Shut up," Dimitri ordered, and drew the last of the fabric aside. He fetched a towel to wring with warm water, rinsing him, the black bruises appearing along his ribs, his face, his busted lip , his poor eyes...

He thumbed his swollen cheek, blood-caked lips parting.

Claude could not help but lean into his touch, eyes fluttering closed as he pressed a little kiss against Dimitri's hand. "If I had a choice," he whispered brokenly. "I would have asked you for help instead. Please... Please believe that I never wanted to hurt you."

Dimitri could hear the children's tears slow and knew they were being cared for.

"Why--why didn't you ask me?" he asked, holding Claude's hand to his neck, tucked under his chin, where a collar would be.

Claude's face fell. "How could I?" he asked. "I thought you were fake. They usually are..." He gestured helplessly around. "Rich people are all snobs who never want to help people. So I thought." He cracked a smile at him. "You're an anomaly."

 _Goddess, please don't leave me,_ he wanted to say.

Dimitri smiled back to him, unable to help it, teeth stained red. "So are you," he said. It was all he could manage before the bullet wounds finally sank in, and his eye rolled back. He crashed to the floor, loud enough that Mercedes hurried in in a flurry of her habit.

Claude's shout of alarm called everyone else too. It was the last thing Dimitri heard before he passed out.

  
  
  


The first thing he woke up to was Sylvain's face, pressed near his hip, completely asleep. White sheets? White walls? Ah. A hospital bed. But at least it wasn't a psychiatric hospital. At least it wasn’t St. Seiros’.

His arm was in a sling, but he reached his free one, covered in tubes, to stroke Sylvain's hair. His Sylvain... His head ached, and he rolled his eye about to try and look for anyone who could give him answers about... anything.

Felix was leaning against the wall, texting. He looked exhausted. A bit haggard too, his hair unkempt, his clothes ragged. He noticed right away when Dimitri moved, and looked up.

"You're awake," he said quietly, coming over to the bed. And he did something he was not known for. He leaned over Dimitri, his dark hair brushing over his cheek and kissed him fully. Felix must have been terribly worried. He never did more than kiss his cheek on his own.

Dimitri leaned up, kissing Felix in return, knowing how rare this was, wanting to savor it. "How--how long--where is--where is Khalid?" He wanted to call him his real name.

Felix pulled away, actually looking shy and breathless, a rare gift. "I don't know. He's... Probably fine. He didn't get shot. And Mercedes healed him before we left."

"He's... he's alive," Dimitri murmured, falling back to the pillows. "Where are the children?" He fought to try and sit up, flinching. Just how many times had he been shot?

Felix gently but firmly pressed him back down. "I don't know, Dima. We got them away from those bastards. Hilda and Claude took them somewhere safe, I'm sure. They've been doing this for a while, so I'm sure they have options. Just lie still."

"How long has it been?" Dimitri asked miserably, his fingers curling in Sylvain's sleeve, thumb brushing his hair, trying to comfort him. He squeezed his eyes shut--it was clear it hurt, but he wanted to be brave, be released, so he could go to Khalid.

Felix sat down at his other side. He too reached over to pet Sylvain. "About three days. Sylvain refused to leave your side. He swore you were going to die." He rolled his eyes.

Sylvain mumbled in his sleep and seemed comforted by their combined touch. He was precious to both of them.

"Cornelia came by," Felix grumbled too. He never liked that woman. Something about her rubbed him the wrong way. "Ashe and Annette too." He nodded at some flowers.

"Oh..." Dimitri glanced over at the flowers--Annette had brought him sunflowers. That seemed right somehow. He shut his eye, thinking of the bouquet he'd brought Claude--Khalid. "I want... to see him again," he said, unwavering.

Felix frowned. He'd known this was coming. "Hell no. He may have been telling the truth, Dimitri, but he still used you. And both you and I are both out thirty grand because of that. We should peacefully go our separate ways."

Dimitri shut his eyes, sighing heavilyy. "I'll... give you your money back. This is my fault." He supposed this would be how this ended. Khalid was safe... that was all he could hope for, right?

Felix threw his hands up. "Dimitri, this isn't about money. You know I couldn't care less. I was never going to take your piano away. I just..." He flushed a bit. "I hated seeing you so hurt. I don't want him to hurt you again."

Dimitri nodded a little, reaching out with a shaking hand to catch Felix's, draw it to his cheek. His hand stilled in Sylvain's hair, and he squeezed Felix's fingers tightly. "I loved him so much," he said, voice hoarse.

Felix's breath caught. He... Wanted this. He wanted Dimitri to love someone, to be loved. But...

"He didn't deserve you," he huffed.

Of course Felix would say that. Dimitri would consult with Sylvain later. But right now, right now he wanted to comfort Felix in the best way he could, and that was by being obedient, and being still.

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry...

Hello everyone,

Unfortunately, this fic has been canceled, due to the absent interest of the rp partner I had to continue it. I'm sorry to those who hoped it would go on, however, this fic in particular will be sort of restyled and revamped under a different author on A03 with my own ideas and a few new rp partners I have befriended (with all the same ships you know and love)! I've not yet made the new profile yet, so if you wish to follow the newer version of this fic, I'll have it posted on my twitter @Mechanist_Macha so be on the lookout for that as well!

Thank you so much for the comments and the kudos, I appreciate you all so much and I hope you keep reading! <3333


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